Change One Thing, Change Everything
by Athena Alexandria
Summary: AU. Post Catch 22. When Desmond brings Kate back to life after pulling her out of the ocean, she absorbs part of his power, but what happens when she tries to use it to make amends for her past mistakes? Jate.
1. Chapter 1

Don't listen to me when I say I'm having a break: I'm a workaholic, even when it comes to my hobbies! Thanks for your final reviews for "Picking up the Pieces". I'm glad you're all happy with the conclusion. As promised, here is the first chapter of my Butterfly Effect fic, picking up from after the oatmeal scene in Catch-22. I finished beating out the plot tonight, and it's not the same as the movie, but it borrows the idea that you can't change the past without creating ripples. Now that I have the complete picture, I'm pretty excited about it: it spans four alternate timelines, one for each season, and one flashback one, and includes several main character deaths. I may change the rating to M later, depend on how dark and violent it gets. ;)

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Chapter 1. Regrets

More than anything, Kate wished that she could change the past.

The first time this thought occurred to her, she was five years old. Her father had told her that he was moving to Washington, so they wouldn't see each other for a while, and she couldn't help thinking that if she'd kept her mouth shut about the man who came over when he was at work, he wouldn't be going, and she wouldn't be getting a new daddy, one who called her "Girl", and smelt like an ashtray when he tried to kiss her.

Ironically, the second time she had this thought was when she blew him up.

Since then, she'd lost count; it seemed like there was always something new to regret, something she'd done, or hadn't done, until she felt like she was drowning in a sea of mistakes that she couldn't seem to get away from, no matter now far, or how fast, she tried to run.

Today was no different.

Today, it was Sawyer.

He'd been following her around like a lovesick puppy for days, ever since they'd escaped from the island he referred to as "Alcatraz", and all she could think about was Jack, and how he wouldn't look her in the eyes anymore.

Not that she was sure she deserved his respect; she felt dirty, tainted by the knowledge that he knew, that he'd _seen_. She just wished she knew how to fix it.

Watching him hand a bowl to Juliet and sit down, she wished that she could go back in time, to the days when it was the two of them sitting on the beach together, watching the waves. She missed the way their shoulders brushed against each other when they moved, his laugh, the smile he sometimes gave her, the one she'd thought meant something, until Juliet came along, and made her doubt it.

It wasn't any one thing, she just missed him, even when he was right there in front of her.

She wasn't all that serious about doing the dishes; she just wanted him to offer to help her like he would have in the old days. She wanted to spend time with him, but that wasn't easy when he was avoiding her, making it impossible for her to explain, not that she was even sure what she should say.

And so the cycle continued.

She thought about taking Sawyer up on his earlier offer, if only to get Jack out of her head for a while, but the last time she'd given in to temptation like that, it had backfired so thoroughly that she shuddered to think how much worse things could get if Jack saw her sneaking out afterwards. There would be no excuse this time: she wouldn't be able to convince either of them that it didn't mean anything.

So instead, she bypassed his tent, leaving him to his book, and heading along the beach, away from him, away from Jack… away from everything. It would all still be there in the morning, but tonight, right now, she wanted to forget.

She knew that Desmond and the others were somewhere nearby, on their boys' own camping trip, but all around her the air was still, except for the crash of the waves, and the rustle of the breeze; out here, she could pretend that she was all alone on the island, like Rousseau.

Free.

She hadn't meant to take more than a brief walk, to clear her head, but before long, she was so far out that she couldn't see the light of the campfires anymore. She couldn't see much of anything as dark clouds settled over the horizon, blocking out the stars.

The silence wasn't peaceful anymore, each slight sound making her tense; realising that alone, in the dark, she was easy prey for the Others, or the monster, or whatever else was lurking in the jungle, she decided to turn back. If she was lucky, she could be safely inside her tent before the storm hit.

Changing course, she headed back in the direction of home, but her progress was slow as she crossed the coastal shelf in the dark, and she cursed herself for not realising how far from the campsite she was getting. She was sure that Jack would have something to say about it when she got back, something along the lines of his "Live together, die alone" speech. Not that it mattered. He already thought she was a screw up.

She was still trying to make her way across the rocky outcrop when the rain began to fall, a sudden, sideways kind of rain that made it difficult for her to see more than a few feet in front of her, and it was all she could do to keep her sandals planted firmly on the ground. She thought about finding somewhere to wait it out, but there was nothing but jungle for miles around, and she was deathly afraid of it after seeing what had had happened to the pilot.

She was so confused as to which way to go that she didn't realise she was actually moving _closer _to the edge until she took a step back, and there was nothing there; she tried to regain her balance, but it was too late. Her head smacked hard against rock on the way down, and she could feel herself losing consciousness, but the harder she fought to stay awake, the more it hurt. Her lungs started to burn as soon as she hit the water, sinking beneath the surface, and it was almost a relief when she blacked out entirely.

She was sure she must be dead when she came to again, and realised that she was lying somewhere dry, until she became aware of a voice telling her to, "Come on". Her first thought was that Jack had come for her; that it was him pouring his breath into her lungs; until she let out a involuntary cough, expelling the water that was lodged in her throat, opening her eyes to see Desmond kneeling over her, his face lighting up with relief when he saw that she was all right.

"You're either really brave, or really stupid," he said as he helped her to sit up. "So which is it?"

The fire in her chest was too intense for her to answer as she struggled for each breath, but she managed to choke out, "How did you…?"

"I heard you scream," he told her quickly, which was strange, because she couldn't remember making any noise. It had all happened too fast; one second she was on the ledge, the next, she was in the water. "You're lucky our campsite isn't too far away."

She wasn't sure what to say to that; as her breathing returned to normal, and her heart began to slow, she realised how careless she'd been, how close she'd come to dying alone, in the ocean, and she felt sick. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her eyes burning with tears. "I guess it was pretty stupid."

To this credit, he didn't dwell on this point. "We should get you back before you get into any more trouble," he said with a kind smile, standing and offering her his hand.

She accepted it gratefully, letting him pull her to her feet, her own legs shaking too hard to give her much leverage. "Thank you," she told him, leaning heavily on him when she realised that she was too dizzy to walk on her own, the back of her skull throbbing where it had connected with the rocks.

Even though she knew that she should let him examine her, she hoped that Jack was asleep when they returned; if he was, maybe she could convince Desmond not to wake him. She thought that she was in the clear when they arrived at the campsite to find it deserted, everyone in bed, until Jack came barrelling out of the pantry area, taking over from Desmond as soon as he reached them.

"Where've you been, Kate? What happened?" he asked as he slipped his arm around her, helping her to her tent, removing her hand so that he could examine the back of her head.

She was still shaking from cold and fear, so he draped a blanket around her shoulders to warm her, and she just sat there, too ashamed to answer, the lump in her throat growing as she tried to hold back her tears. When she didn't speak, Desmond detailed his side of the story, the look of horror on Jack's face convincing her that he at least still cared about her, in spite of her earlier fears.

"Do you have any idea how stupid it was to go wandering around the middle of the night?" he demanded, accepting a bottle of peroxide and a cloth from Desmond, who had the grace to slip off and give them some privacy; as he continued to berate her, his harsh words in sharp contrast with his delicate touch as he cleaned out the wound, she wished the earth would open up and swallow her so that she didn't have to hear anymore.

"I'm sorry," she whispered for the second time that night, feeling small and insignificant, but he just shook his head, switching gears into clinical mode.

"You should get some rest. Looks like you hit your head pretty hard – call me if you feel sick, okay? I need to know if you have a concussion," and with that, he left.

When he was gone, she sank onto her bed, letting the tears fall, wishing that she could take it all back: the lies, that kiss, Sawyer, everything, even tonight.

And then, somehow, she did.

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Next chapter: Kate wakes up in the past, but where, and when? ;) 


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for your reviews. I'm glad you all approve of my obsessive tendencies. ;) I've been thinking about changing the title to "This Time", for some reason, but I think it might be too late!

I'm not going to have Kate go back too far to start off with (certainly not to flashback time!), just to the day she subconsciously wants to relive the most at the moment, for obvious reasons. But if that doesn't work out, she may have to go back even further...;)

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Chapter 2. Déjà vu 

When Kate opened her eyes, the first things to greet them were the bars.

Immediately, the thought came to her that it had all been a dream: the crash, the island, Jack… It all seemed so unreal; maybe it _was_ just the last, hopeful delusion of a woman condemned to spend the rest of her life in jail.

Then she saw Sawyer, sitting against the bars of the adjacent cage with his back to her, throwing rocks, apparently with no intention of getting a biscuit, and it hit her that they were still with the Others.

Still… again… there was something so familiar about all of it, like she'd lived this day before.

It only took her a moment to realise that she had.

She could remember waking up on these steps, watching Sawyer idly repeat the motion, until she'd asked him to get her a biscuit just to make it less unsettling. However, as disturbed as she was then, that was nothing compared to how she felt now. "What the hell's going on? How did we get back here?" she asked him, and he started, turning to her with a dubious look.

"Whadaya mean, 'back'?"

"Last night, we were on the beach, and now we're not," she told him, but rather than react to this, he just let out a sardonic laugh.

"Feels a little like that, don't it?"

"I'm serious," she complained when she couldn't get him to acknowledge what she was really saying, frustrated by the realisation that whatever was happening to her, didn't seem to have had the same effect on him. He really thought they belonged here.

Seemingly dubious as to her sanity, he frowned at her, studying her expression. "You have a nightmare or somethin', Freckles? Cause you're not makin' a whole lot of sense."

Deciding that it was futile trying to explain her déjà vu to someone who didn't share it, she huffed out a heavy sigh, struggling to her feet. "Something like that," she agreed, moving over to lean against the bars, watching him, trying to figure out which morning they were in, until she saw Pickett heading their way and remembered with a painful jolt.

"Come on, time for work."

It was the day he told them that Sawyer was going to die.

Thinking back to the night before, she realised that she'd been wishing for exactly this, a chance to go back and not cause the rift between her and Jack, but even so, she couldn't shake the sense of foreboding that settled over her. She couldn't watch Sawyer get shot; it was hard enough the first time, when Jack stopped it.

"What about him?" she asked, nodding to Sawyer as Pickett unlocked her cage, and his answer came rushing back to her before he even opened his mouth. "'He's got the day off'."

Once the words were out of her mouth, Pickett just stared at her, stunned, before collecting himself enough to ask, "What did you just say?"

"I said you're giving him the day off," she repeated, and his eyes widened, so much so that if she hadn't known better, she would have thought he was just a little afraid of her. "But you can't – we're a team. I break the rocks, he hauls them."

The last part she directed at Sawyer, intercepting him as he began the familiar retort, "Go, Freckles. Man wants…"

It was his turn to give her a strange look, seeming to wonder what had gotten into her, but to her relief, Pickett opened the other cage, just like she knew he would. "Lord knows I wouldn't wanna break up the team."

It was all the same, every word, every gesture, except where she interfered, changing the dialogue. Until she figured out how, and why, it was happening, she wasn't prepared to let Sawyer out of her sight, so she stayed close by him all through the morning, watching the familiar chain of events unfold: the work yard, Alex, Juliet…

This time, when Juliet offered the bag to her, she didn't hesitate in slipping it over her had. Sawyer hadn't believed her when she tried to explain it to him, but maybe Jack would; he _had to_.

Sawyer's life depended on it.

In a lot of ways, it was like a dream come true when Juliet pushed her into the observation room, uncovering her eyes: there he was, standing on the other side of the glass, moved almost tears by the sight of her. He had never been as happy to see her as he was then, she could feel it; there were so many things she wanted to say to him, to tell him, now, while she had the chance, but saving Sawyer had to be her priority. That couldn't change.

Returning his smile, stepping up to him, she could feel her own throat closing up, knowing in advance how unreceptive he was going to be, how badly hearing what she had to say was going to hurt him. She had to find a way to soften the blow, to communicate to him that she cared about Sawyer, but that was all. She _loved_ him.

"Hey. You okay?" he asked, leaning on the partition; she placed her right palm against his so that if it weren't for the glass, their hands would be touching him, wanting more than anything else at that moment to talk to him, not about Sawyer or the Others or the fact that she'd woken up two weeks before she was supposed to, just _talk_, like they used to, liked she'd wanted to on the beach.

"Yeah. You?" she agreed, smiling at him when he said, "Yeah, I'm great."

He just looked at her for a moment, really _looked_ at her, and then he asked, "Where're they keeping you?"

She knew that she should hurry up and get to the point, that they didn't have a lot of time, but she told him to ease his mind, only this time, she didn't mention the work the Others were making them do, because she remembered that that was when he begun to pull back. He knew that they were being watched, and so, now, did she.

When he demanded to know if they'd hurt her in that forceful tone, his eyes desperate, it almost broke her heart, because she knew that there was nothing they, or anyone else, could do to her that would hurt her more than the realisation that she'd caused him so much pain, until the thought occurred to her that she hadn't. Yet. That was one thing that she _could_ change. All she had to do was convince him to help her plan an escape, because she knew that she couldn't leave him behind again. It had almost killed her last time.

"Jack," she whispered, lowering her voice so that they wouldn't be overheard, finding it hard to remain in control with him watching her so intently, "You have to listen to me, okay? Please," and he nodded, glancing nervously at the corner where the camera was mounted.

He wasn't happy about it, but he let her continue. "Tomorrow morning, one of them – _Pickett_ – is gonna come out to the cages and he's… he's gonna kill Sawyer," she told him, choking on the last words when she saw his pained look, the same one he'd given her the last time she'd begged him to help her save Sawyer's life.

"They brought you here to tell me that?" he pressed, loud enough for whoever was listening to hear him, and with a sinking feeling, she realised that he wasn't going to believe her, even though this time she knew it wasn't a mind game.

"You're right, they wanted me to tell you that, but you haven't seen him, Jack – he's crazy," she tried to explain, but he cut her off before she could finish.

"_Why_, Kate? What do they want? They didn't go to all the trouble of making that list, and getting Michael to lead us here, just to shoot him."

He was still under the impression that they all had been in the beginning, that they were all of equal importance. "_Yes_, they did! They only wanted you!" she insisted, desperate to make him understand. "Ben's sick, and the only way he thought he could get you to operate was if he had us too. He doesn't care about us – he won't stop Pickett from killing Sawyer if that's what it takes."

It wasn't until the words were out of her mouth that she realised her mistake. This was exactly where it had all gone wrong last time, when he thought she'd allowed herself to be taken in. "Jack, it's true," she pleaded, but he wouldn't listen to her; he was too incensed.

"They told you that, and you believe them," he retorted, his tone accusing, as if he'd expected her, a fugitive, to have more sense, and a tear slid down her cheek, because she knew that there was no way of convincing him, especially after all her attempts to manipulate him in the past. He didn't trust her like he once had; even if she could find the words to tell him how she felt, she knew he wouldn't believe her.

She was on her own.

"I have to," she agreed, following the script this time, closing her eyes in resignation at what she knew was coming. Biting her lip, she choked back a sob when he said, half to her, half to Juliet, who she knew had been listening, "We're done. Hey, we're done in here!" bringing their brief visit to an end.

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Next chapter: Kate is sent back to the cages, and tries to convince that he'll die if he doesn't escape with her... ;) 


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for the reviews. I'm pleased that you're all as excited as I am! Things are going to pick up this chapter, and you'll begin to see my plan. ;)

Just a little note: everything that happens will remain true to the show, except where Kate interferes, so some of the scenes and dialogue will be the same, just with subtle inclusions, since the other characters are doing what they would do in that situation, acting from a kind of script. It's real to them, but familar to us. ;)

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Chapter 3. Pickett

As Jack moved away from the glass, turning his back on her, Juliet reappeared from the hallway, tugging the scratchy cloth down over Kate's eyes.

"Come on," she said with surprising gentleness, taking hold of her bicep and escorting her out of the station. Kate could tell by her tone that she felt something that might have been guilt for provoking an argument between her and Jack, but not guilty enough to refrain from asking, "Sawyer – you really care about him, don't you?" as she put her back in her cage, locking the door.

"What do you care?" she retorted, wishing that the other woman would just be cruel like Pickett, so that she could hate her the way she wanted to; the way she should; and Juliet looked taken aback, cocking a pale eyebrow at her, but, as Kate had come to expect, she kept her composure.

"I'm sorry you weren't able to help us, Kate," she said, ever the good cop, as Kate registered voices, followed by Pickett shoving Sawyer in the direction of his cage.

"Sawyer! Look out!" she cried as he unlocked the door, remembering what had happened last time, but too late; Pickett backhanded Sawyer across the base of his skull and he dropped to his knees with an exasperated shout.

"Son of a bitch!"

"What the hell is your problem?" she cried as she watched Sawyer struggle back to his feet, fixing him with a death glare.

"You wanna shut your mouth and mind your own business, or I'll come over there and make you shut it," Pickett said, slamming the door, and turning his attention on her; as she stared back at him, defiant, trying not to let him see how afraid of him she was, he took a menacing step towards her, but Juliet grabbed his arm, shooting him a warning look. "Danny! Stop it!"

"Right, sorry, Jules," he said, feigning calm so that she would release him, but Kate could see that he wasn't even close to sorry as he acknowledged Sawyer with a hateful look, uttering those painfully familiar words, "You got anything to say to your girl, you best say it tonight."

But this time, Kate wasn't going to give him the chance to say goodbye. This time, she was going to get all three of them out of there.

She waited until Juliet flashed them a sympathetic look and slunk off, followed by Pickett, before turning back to Sawyer.

"And how was your day, honey?" he joked, but she ignored him, scaling the side of her cage.

"We're not gonna wait for him to come back and finish you off – we're leaving tonight," she told him, dragging herself up onto the roof.

"Damnit, Freckles, stay put," he growled as he watched her walk across the bars, swinging herself over the edge. "Get down – we already been through this."

"I know, and you were just as bull-headed then as you're being right now," she agreed as she dropped down onto the ground, searching out a rock that was big enough to bust open the padlock.

If the key ring weren't so damn big, she would have swiped it from Juliet the moment she allowed Pickett to distract her, but there was no way she could have taken it without her noticing.

"Stop it, damnit, Kate," he cried as he watched her smash it repeatedly into the lock, reefing it open.

"Go on, get out of here – run," she told him, grabbing a handful on his shirt shoving him in the direction of the door, but he remained stubbornly inside his cage, just like she knew he would.

"You're outta your cage – why don't you run?" he retorted, but before he could continue on with his spiel, she said, "Don't tell me there's nowhere to go, because that's a crap and you know it. I can show you where there's a boat, but we have to go now."

He stared at her, open-mouthed, and she could tell that he was confused about how she'd discovered something he'd so resolutely kept from her. It would have been the moment that he finally told her, and something inside of her broke, taking all hope of freedom with it, but this time, she knew where they could find the help they needed. "And how the hell would you know somethin' like that?" he demanded, giving her a sharp look, and she knew that he still had his misgivings. He thought that she was lying to him, trying to convince him not to give up, even though they were screwed. "Those bastards been keepin' you locked up here, same as me."

Running her fingers through her hair, she let out an exasperated sigh. "I don't have time to explain – I just need you to trust me," she said, knowing better than to go through that again.

He stared at her for a long moment, holding her gaze, before reluctantly stepping out of the cage. But once he was outside, he made no move to run, whipping back around to face her when she said, "Go, head for the coast – I'll catch up to you when I can," and he realised that she had no intention of following him.

"Where're you goin'?"

"To find Jack," she called back over her shoulder, starting in the direction Juliet had brought her from, but before she could make it more than a few steps, his fingers snaked around her wrist, holding onto her so tightly that she was sure he was going to leave a bruise.

"Like hell you ain't," he hissed against her ear, his voice low and dangerous. "They'll kill you if they catch you snoopin' around."

"We can't just leave him," she insisted, trying to pull away, and to her surprise, he agreed.

"I'll go get him, but you haveta wait here," he said with a sigh, but before she could protest, and tell him that she was coming with him, he used his grip on her arm to propel her back into his cage, slamming the door behind her.

"I'll be back for you as soon as I can," he assured her as he replaced the lock, fixing her with a severe look as he added, "And damnit, Freckles, don't piss me off by pullin' another one o' your Houdini acts. I'm sure the doc don't want you getting your head blown off because of him." With one final glance at her to make sure that she really was staying put this time, he sauntered off in the direction she was headed before he intercepted her.

"Sawyer!" she cried, rattling the cage door to get his attention. "You can't go in there! If they see you… Pickett's just waiting for you to give him a reason!"

"You think I'm afraid of him?" he called back over his shoulder, but he stopped when Pickett and one of his lackeys came storming out in front of him, blocking his path. "Oh hey there – we were just talkin' about you," he quipped, as if to illustrate his point, and Pickett punched him in the jaw, snapping his head backwards.

"I thought I told you to keep your mouth shut!"

"Really? 'Cause I thought you were talkin' to her," Sawyer reminded him, jerking his head in Kate's direction, and Pickett hit him again for his insolence, sending him sprawling on the ground. "We got an old woman back at the beach who hits harder'n that," he spat as he got up, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, his eyes flashing.

It was too much for Kate to take, knowing that the escape was her idea in the first place. "Sawyer, stop it!" she cried as Pickett swung back his fist, preparing to drive it into his face for a third time; desperate to get to them before he could do any more damage, she fumbled with the lock, trying to get it to give, but it wasn't as badly damaged as she'd hoped.

"Stay outta this, Freckles," he growled, shooting her a warning look that told her to keep her head down.

As he went back to slinging insults at Pickett, getting in a few blows of his own before he was knocked off his feet again, Kate searched for another way out of the cage, but without the stone steps to give her a leg up, getting onto the roof was going to be near impossible.

Tearing off her shoes to give her more traction, she had just found a foothold when Pickett whipped out the gun tucked into his belt, aiming it at Sawyer's chest.

"Stay down," he said, cocking it for emphasis, and this time, Sawyer didn't get up, crouching in the dirt in front of him with a defiant look.

"On your knees," he barked, apparently not convinced that Sawyer would refrain from making any sudden movements. He shifted the gun so that it was pointing in Kate's direction, gesturing for his friend to cover her. "Or I'll put a bullet in her too."

Glancing over at her, to where she stood frozen, with her foot against the bars, watching him, Sawyer did as he was told, dropping forward onto his knees.

"Please," she found herself saying, wild-eyed, just like the last time, as Pickett's friend edged over to her, training her with his own gun. "You don't have to do this. You can just let us go."

"Someone outta show him what happens to heroes," Pickett told her, slamming his foot into Sawyer's ribs, keeping his gun inches from his chest so that he couldn't even fall forward as he clutched at his side.

Sawyer doubled over for a moment, then straightened again, forcing his hands away from his injury. "You wanna shoot me, then go ahead and shoot me," he ground out, and even though he succeeded in holding Pickett's gaze, staring him down, Kate could see that he didn't have long before he blacked out from the pain. He couldn't fight anymore, even if he still had the will.

"I was gonna give you until morning," Picket said, "but I guess you won't mind if I speed things along."

It wasn't supposed to happen until tomorrow. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. "Please, I'll do anything you want, just let him go!" Kate cried as the truth hit her: Jack wasn't going to intervene this time. He wasn't going to make a deal with the Others to let them go. To the best of her knowledge, he was still in his cell, oblivious to anything outside of those four walls, and all because this time, she hadn't wanted to hurt him.

"I want you to watch," Pickett said, circling behind him, so that his gun was aimed point blank at the back of Sawyer's head.

"Close your eyes, Freckles," he rasped, the little strength he had left fading, and this time, she did, wishing, with every fibre of her being that she could go back to that night on the beach, the night she almost drowned, and stop this from happening, even if it meant losing Jack.

There had to be another way to fix things, there had…

"This is for Colleen, you son of a BITCH!"

The _pop_ of the gunshot came as such a shock that she almost didn't register it, until she opened her eyes to see Sawyer pitch forward, onto the ground. She tried to convince herself that he was just unconscious, that the pain had finally become too much, until she saw the hole in the back of his skull, and she _knew_.

Sawyer was dead, and it was all her fault.

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Sorry Katie-Bear... but don't worry, she can always go back and try again!

Next chapter: Kate reacts to Sawyer's death, and some Jate... ;)


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks for the reviews. I see some of you are starting to figure out where I'm going with this -- why I killed Sawyer, and what that means for Jate. And don't worry, as I said before, I only took the basic idea of The Butterfly Effect. The ending will be much more optimistic...;)

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Chapter 4. Choices 

"NO!"

As the word ripped from her throat, Kate realised, with a start, that it was her own anguished voice she was hearing. "No, no, no…" She had to go back; she had to fix this. She had to save Sawyer this time.

Sinking to her knees, she watched, horrified, as Pickett kicked his lifeless body around like a rag doll, hoisting it up over his shoulder once he was sure that he was dead.

"Bring him back," she sobbed, gripping the bars for support as he started towards the jungle, no longer sure who she was talking to: Pickett, or whatever higher power had seen fit to snuff out Sawyer's life like that. "_Please_, bring him back."

All she wanted was to go back to her own time, to see Jack, even if he was still mad at her; to listen to Sawyer make fun of everyone, and call her "Freckles, and see the fire in his eyes, instead of the dull stare that greeted her as he lay in the dirt, blood seeping into a crimson puddle at Pickett's feet. She knew that even if she could go back, to when Jack had prevented it, that image would haunt her the rest of her days.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she curled herself into a ball in the corner of the cage, refusing to believe that any of it was really happening as she concentrated on the crash of the waves, the familiar voices, the sounds of home… If she listened hard enough, she thought she could hear Hurley, back from his camping trip with Desmond and the others; sneaking a peak at her surroundings, she was relieved to see the dark blue tarp that made up the walls of her tent.

It had all been a dream; at least she thought it had, until she rolled over and found herself face to face with Jack, stretched out on his side beside her, close enough to touch.

He must have come back to check on me and fallen asleep, she decided, wondering if she should embarrass him by waking him. Probably not: that was likely to lead to awkwardness of both of their parts, or worse, another argument about how careless she was.

Standing up and stepping out onto the beach, she realised that whatever he'd done to help her, it had worked. The pain in her head was gone; she felt fine, not dizzy or nauseous at all. It was a small mercy, though she would have welcomed another concussion in exchange for knowing that everyone she cared about was safe.

Sawyer wasn't in his usual spot outside his tent; overwhelmed by the need to see him, to talk to him, even if he made fun of her for it, she ducked under the flap without bothering to announce her presence, but he wasn't in bed like she thought he'd be.

Worse, his stash was gone.

She could see the hole in the floor where he'd hidden the guns, but it was empty, his bed propped against the wall, and an icy coldness settled over her.

He couldn't be dead… could he?

"Hey, Hurley, have you seen Sawyer?" she asked when she spotted him in the kitchen with Charlie, hoping that after the storm, and Desmond's sudden disappearance, he and the others had decided to turn back.

"You're kidding, right?" he said, his eyes widening, and she thought he looked a little afraid; of her, or for her, she couldn't tell.

"Kate, Sawyer's… gone," Charlie reminded her gently, his look almost pitying as he reached out to touch her arm. "The Others killed him. You were there." To Hurley, he added, "Maybe you should get Jack. Tell him she's having some sort of... episode."

She couldn't hear it from him too, so she shook her head, "Don't bother – I'm fine," striding purposefully towards the cemetery.

If she was going to accept that what they were telling her was true, she needed proof, and she couldn't think of anything that would drive it home more finally than seeing the place where he was buried.

Sure enough, when she arrived, there was a new grave next to the one she'd dug for Ana, the name "James Ford. Sawyer" carved painstakingly into the cross. Fighting back tears, she wondered who'd done it: Sayid, feeling guilty for all the times they'd come to blows? Jack, blaming himself for not being there to stop it? Or her, as the closest thing he'd had to a loved one on the island?

She was still staring at it, trying to come to terms with what it meant when she heard a soft voice behind her, making her jump. "How did I know I'd find you here?"

She turned to see Jack approaching; he stopped beside her with a sad smile, flinching visibly when he followed her eyes to the marker in front of them. "Charlie said you were asking about him – did you have another nightmare? You should have woken me."

Yeah, she wanted to agree, that this whole thing was a nightmare, but she couldn't find the words, so instead, she asked curiously, "Is that why you were in my tent?"

He raised his eyebrow at her, confused. "You asked me to sleep there, remember? Last night. You said you didn't wanna be alone, after..." He nodded at the grave, swallowing. "Are you sure you're okay? You seem… different. Distant."

"It just… doesn't seem real, you know?" she told him, biting her lip to keep from breaking down at the concern she could see in his warm, dark eyes. This much, at least, was true. "I feel like he was just here."

Wordlessly, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him, and kissing the top of her head. "I know, I feel like that too. I'm sorry you had to go through that, Kate. I'm sorry I didn't believe you. If I could go back in time…"

His voice broke as he added, "If they'd…" and she could feel his shoulders shaking as he tightened his grip on her, burying his face in her hair. "I don't know what I would've done if they hadn't let you go when I asked them to… when I agreed to do the surgery," he finished quickly, kissing her again, and laying his cheek against the top of her head, too overcome to voice his real fears.

It felt so right to be in his arms, hearing him tell her, not with his words, but the intensity behind them, that he loved her, that she mattered to him more than anything, even his integrity, but she couldn't enjoy it, knowing what she'd sacrificed. "Do you believe in fate?" she asked when he had his emotions under control, making no move to free herself from him, and he pulled back enough to fix her with a questioning look, his eyes still glistening with unshed tears.

He was hurting so badly; she hated what she'd done to him, making him think that it was his fault, when she knew better.

"I believe in choices," he said, carefully, "That the decisions we make _determine_ our fate," and a lump began to form in her throat at the realisation of what she had to do.

If she wanted them to have a chance, without the shadow of Sawyer's death hanging over any happiness they might otherwise have had, she had to go back, not just to the day in the cage, but further this time, to before their capture. She had to make sure that they made a different choice, the choice to stay on the beach and _not_ confront the Others, and the only way to do that was to stop Michael from sparking this nightmarish chain of events.

Even if it meant saying goodbye to Jack.

"I believe in _you_ – don't ever forget that, okay?" she told him, cupping his stubble-roughed cheek in her palm, and, to his astonishment, stretching up onto her toes, and kissing him, before closing her eyes again, and wishing herself out of that perfect moment.

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Next chapter: Kate warns Jack about Michael... ;) 


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks for the reviews. This was (and will be) the hardest chapter in the entire fic to co-ordinate, but hopefully it works and makes sense. There was actually going to be a Skate scene -- I thought it would be funny if Kate hugged Sawyer, relieved to see him alive, and he made some comment about why is it that all the girls wanna jump him today (since she still has no idea about Ana Lucia), but that fell by the wayside when I realised it didn't fit in with my plan... ;)

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Chapter 5. The List 

Whatever the source of her newfound ability, Kate knew that she must be getting better at controlling it when she opened her eyes onto the Hatch bedroom, where Michael was resting after his ordeal with the Others.

Watching him stir and mumble something incoherent, remembering how weak he'd been when she and Jack found him in the jungle, she realised how easy it would be to end it: all she had to do was take one of the pillows from the top bunk, and she could save not only Sawyer, this time, but Ana and Libby as well. No one would ever know, or even suspect, what she'd done. But he wasn't a murderer yet, he was a good man in a desperate situation; a father; and she was determined to make sure that no one else got hurt.

So instead, she took advantage of his delirious state to riffle through his pockets until she found the list that had been the cause of so much trouble. If she could get Jack to look at it, to see their names scrawled across it, maybe he'd believe her this time: all she had to do was plant the seeds of doubt in his mind.

She froze, shocked, when she stepped out into the main room to see him talking to Ana; the memory of her slumped against the back of the couch, hours from now, staring at her with dead eyes, flickered into her brain, but she shook it off, focusing on what she needed to do to prevent it.

"Can I talk to you a sec?" she asked, with a pointed look at Ana, and he nodded, "Sure," following her into the geodome, out of earshot of both her, and Locke, who was sitting at the table, sketching something that looked like a map, his crutches propped against the seat beside him. "What's up?"

She wasn't sure how to begin, so she decided to cut to the chase, holding the scrap of paper out for him to take. "I found this in Michael's pocket," she explained as he studied it. "It's a list… of us." She knew from past experience that showing too much inside knowledge would lead to questions that they didn't have time for, and cause him to question her sanity, so she added, trying not to sound too certain, "I think _they_ wrote it – why they sent him back."

He stared at it for a long moment, and she almost laughed when he asked, "Who's James Ford?" his brow furrowed, until she remembered the headstone, and his confusion didn't seem quite so amusing anymore.

"That's Sawyer – his real name," she told him, and he frowned, passing the list back to her.

"It's weird, I'll admit that, but it could be anything, Kate. We can show it to Sayid, see what he thinks, but I'm not sure we should be jumping to conclusions – at least not until we hear what Michael has to say."

She had just slipped the list into the pocket of her jeans, debating whether or not it was worth taking it to Sayid herself, even if that meant undermining Jack, when Locke hobbled in to tell them that Michael was awake.

His story was the same: just like the last time, he swore that the Others were savages, who lived in huts and ate fish, and she couldn't help wondering, now that she'd seen the barracks, whether he was intentionally lying to them, or they'd tricked him into believing it; after all, it wasn't until she'd seen Tom's beard hanging on a coat hanger that she'd realised they weren't as backwards as they appeared. He didn't mention the list, just like she knew that he wouldn't, and as he brought his tale to a close, vowing to go after them as soon as he got his strength back, she saw Jack glance over at her, puzzling over this omission.

"I know you wanna help him, but I have a really bad feeling about what he's suggesting," she told him in a low voice as they followed Locke and Ana out of the bedroom, and he nodded, but to her despair, he didn't dismiss the idea.

"I know, but that doesn't change the fact that Walt's still out there. He's one of us – we have to do whatever we can to bring him home."

"I just think we need to be careful around him – until we know he's still on our side, I don't think anyone should be alone with him," she insisted, and he raised his eyebrow at her, surprised, as he registered the urgency in her tone, but he didn't press her for an explanation, and she wasn't sure whether he believed her or not.

She would have argued more, stressing the point until he realised how serious she was, but with a tight smile, he left to go talk to Locke, about the guns, she knew. They were going to go down to the beach to get them back off of Sawyer, and while they were gone, that was when Michael was going to carry out his plan.

Unless she got hold of Ana's gun first.

Heading back to the kitchen area, she watched her fill a bottle with water, trying to figure out how she was going to get close enough to swipe it back from her when it was tucked into her belt. They'd never been friends, never even gotten along; the memory of how coolly she'd treated her, accusing her of attacking Sun and manipulating Jack, was one that still filled her with remorse.

Glancing up from the sink, Ana saw that she was staring, joking feebly, "What's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost," and Kate cracked a tiny smile, realising that, in a way, she had.

"I was just thinking how weird it is that we have things like plumbing now," she said, trying to keep the conversation friendly, neutral. Already, Ana didn't trust her; she didn't want to upset the delicate balance of their relationship by letting her know that she was up to something.

"You're tellin' me," Ana agreed with a soft chuckle, and what was almost a genuine smile. "After almost two months of livin' like animals, it was hard enough gettin' used to sleepin' in tents."

Spotting the cluster of empty bottles she still had left to fill, Kate saw her chance. "You want help with those?" she asked with a casual nod, keeping her voice pleasant; Ana looked taken aback, confused by her sudden chattiness, but she nodded, "Sure."

"Excuse me." Feeling slightly guilty, but knowing that everything she was doing was for Ana's own good, Kate reached around her for one of the bottles, sliding the gun out of her belt with her other hand in one quick motion. Then, before Ana had time to realise what she'd done, she slipped it down the back of her own jeans, adjusting her own, thankfully baggy, shirt to cover it.

Pleased with herself for averting the crisis, she continued to make small talk with Ana, going so far as to entertain the notion that, this time, they might even find a way to be friends. They had more in common than her and Sun, or her and Claire; it might be fun to have an ally in the boys' club.

"Hey… thanks," Ana said awkwardly when she screwed the cap on the last of the bottles and handed it back to her, and Kate decided that she had a nice smile. When she smiled, it softened her whole face, making her seem almost approachable.

"No problem," she told her, returning her grin, before setting off towards the geodome, where Jack and Locke were still deep in conversation.

Any minute now, Jack was going to tell her that he needed her to help him convince Sawyer to give them the guns; but as much as she was looking forward to seeing him, even if he was in one of his less than amiable moods, she decided that delivering the list to Sayid was her number one priority. After that, they would have all the time in the world to catch up.

She couldn't allow Jack to talk her out of it, or even ask her to wait; letting herself out into the jungle without telling him where she was going, she headed along the path to the beach, where she found Sayid working on the as yet unfinished kitchen, digging holes for the posts.

"Jack wants to go with him, but I think it could be a trap," she told him, leaning against one of the poles, once she'd finished explaining, waiting for him to offer his opinion, when Locke emerged from the jungle, heading towards them.

"Since you seem to have a way with Sawyer, Jack wanted to know if you could find a way to get him to hand over the guns," he said, slightly breathless, when he stopped in front of them, resting on his crutches, and she wondered what would prompt Jack to send a messenger, rather than come down to the beach himself.

Maybe he'd actually taken her words to heart this time, and decided to keep an eye on Michael, just in case. "Where is he?" she asked, trying to ignore the sense of foreboding she felt at the thought of Jack at the scene of his murder. At least this time, she could take comfort in knowing that he didn't have a gun. "Why didn't he ask me himself?"

"He went back to the Hatch to check on Ana – said he didn't feel right leaving her alone," Locke explained with a casual shrug, and Kate felt her blood run cold as he added, "He gave her his gun, but I guess he didn't think it was enough. The man's paranoid, if you ask me."

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Anyone who's read the script for "Two for the Road" will remember that there was a nice little moment between Kate and Ana that got cut, which I've always regretted, and wanted to recreate here. Having now met Juliet, I don't think Kate would feel quite as threatened by her anymore!

Next chapter: Kate races to get to the Hatch, but will she make it in time to prevent another double murder? ;)


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks for the reviews. After this chapter, you'll have to let me know whether or not you think I should change the rating (although I don't think it's too graphic)... ;)

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Chapter 6. You Can't Save Everyone 

Kate felt all of the blood drain from her face at Locke's words; without stopping to consider the potentially dangerous situation she was rushing into, she tore through the jungle, praying that she would catch up to Jack in time. She didn't think Michael would kill him when he needed him alive, but if he caught him in the act, like Libby…

She was moving so fast that she almost didn't see her, until she slammed into her chest, knocking her to the ground.

"What's going on, Kate? Is everything okay?" she asked, looking dazed, as she scrambled to her feet, brushing the dirt from the back of her jeans.

Kate had to get to the Hatch, so she ignored her, demanding, "Did you see Jack?" her heart in her throat when Libby agreed, frowning.

"A couple of minutes ago. He told me to go back to the beach. You don't think that guy got out, do you? The pris—?"

A shot rang out then, drowning her out, followed by two more in rapid succession. Every muscle in Kate's body tensed at the sound, and she felt like she was suffocating as she tried not to imagine the horrific scene awaiting her inside the Hatch.

"What was that?" Libby asked, panicked, but she was already off and running again, calling over her shoulder, "Just do what he said. And make sure no one else comes up here."

Her throat ached, and she was fighting back tears as she threw open the heavy metal doors, skidding into the living area, stopping when she caught sight of Ana's body on the couch. A single bullet pierced her chest, just like the last time…

Kate's heart skipped a beat, and she felt everything inside of her turn cold as she scanned the room, finding what she was looking for.

Jack, crumpled into a heap in the doorway where they'd found Libby, the front of his t-shirt stained black with the blood spilling from the wound in his abdomen.

_Please, God, let him be alive_, she prayed as she dropped to her knees beside him, pressing her ear to his lips. He was still breathing; just barely; his heart rate slower than she thought it should be, but then, she wasn't a doctor.

He was the only doctor on their side of the island, she realised with a pang.

He was conscious, his eyes wide and frightened as he opened his mouth, trying to speak, to _warn her_, she guessed as they darted towards the armoury; Michael must still be inside, bleeding from his own self-inflicted injury, but she knew he wouldn't hurt her, not now. She was worthless without Jack, but he didn't know that.

"It's okay, you're gonna be all right," she told him with a feeble smile, unable to suppress her tears as she pulled his head into her lap, caressing the side of his face, "but you need to tell me what to do, okay? You need to help me."

He didn't answer as his eyelids fluttered closed; she knew that he couldn't lose any more blood, so, lifting his shirt, finding the wound, she pressed her palms over it, trying to hold him together, to her, for as long as she could.

But as his blood continued to seep from between her fingers, staining her hands red, she realised that it wasn't enough. She was going to need something more substantial; bandages, gauze, _something_; to save him, but she couldn't let go, so she just knelt there, frozen, sobbing as he bled out around her.

"Tell me what to do, Jack," she pleaded, growing desperate as it hit her that there was nothing she could do to keep him from slipping away from her. "_Please_."

He opened his eyes, silently forming words that never came, and she knew without him making a sound that he was saying goodbye, but she couldn't reconcile this with what was happening to him until she felt something inside of him shut down, and she knew he wasn't coming back.

"Jack?" she choked out as the memory of Tom, bloodied and broken, flashed through her consciousness, but there was nothing left of the man she'd loved.

He was gone.

In this moment of clarity, an eerie calmness came over her as pressed her lips to his forehead, setting him gently on the floor, as if she still believed that he could feel it, before standing and sliding Ana's gun from the waistband of her jeans.

"I know you're in there, and I know you're alive," she said as she kicked open the door to the armoury, filled with a kind of loathing she'd only ever felt for one man before. Two, if she counted Pickett.

"Stand up," she instructed, training the gun on the man she'd once considered a friend, and he did as he was told, clutching his wounded shoulder, his eyes wide with terror. Once, she might have felt sorry for him, but no longer.

He was the enemy now.

"What're you doing?" he asked, trying to look confused, but he wasn't fooling anyone, least of all himself.

He knew that she knew.

And he knew what she was going to do about it.

She would have pulled the trigger then if it weren't for the sound of heavy footsteps in the corridor; she heard Sawyer's cry of "Son of a bitch", and then he, Locke and Sayid burst into the room behind her.

"Why don't you put the gun down, Kate, and we can talk about this?" Sawyer said, taking in her bloody clothes and tear-stained face as he made a cautious move towards her, "Shooting Mike ain't gonna bring him back", but she responded by clicking the trigger into place, eliciting a terrified whimper from Michael.

"Great idea – do you wanna tell them what happened, or should I?" she asked him, her voice unfamiliar to her own ears, steeped in coldness and cruelty as it was.

When he didn't say anything, flinching, she went on, her eyes never leaving his, "Michael wasn't set free, he was sent back, to lure us into a trap. He needed us to get angry enough to go with him, no questions asked, so he killed Ana Lucia."

"No, that's not… I didn't…" he spluttered, looking to the others for support, but their expressions were hard; they knew that only one of them had a reason to lie.

"But you screwed up, didn't you?" she continued, and he looked down, defeated. "You panicked, and you shot Jack too – only he was on the list. _He_ was the one they wanted. They'll never give you your son back now."

She could have killed him then; with his eyes, he was practically begging for it; but she threw the gun at Sayid's feet, leaving him to decide what to do with him. He was no longer one of them, a traitor; it was with grim satisfaction that she watched the Iraqi pick it up, and lead him, trembling, out of the Hatch.

"Come on, Michael," he said, his voice full of menace. "Let's take a little walk into the jungle, shall we."

According to the story they gave the rest of the camp, by tomorrow, the prisoner, "Henry Gale", would have shot and killed three people: Jack, Ana, and Michael, before escaping.

Only the five of them would ever know the truth, and Michael would take that truth to his grave.

There was no one left to show him mercy; with Jack gone, they were living under martial law.

"You okay, Freckles?" Sawyer asked, coming over to her once they were gone; she took one look at his sad, sorry eyes, and broke down, collapsing into his chest.

But as he cradled her against him, keeping silent while she stained his shirt with tears, she couldn't help wishing that it was Jack holding her again, consoling her over _his _death, and even though she knew there was no way Sawyer could tell what she was thinking, she felt guilty, and ashamed.

It wasn't fair for her to choose like that. She wasn't God.

"It's all my fault," she told him, lifting her eyes to look at him. She needed someone to know how sorry she was, how much she wanted to take it all back. Again. "If I hadn't tried to warn him about Michael…" but he pulled her into another crushing hug, cutting her off before she could finish the thought.

"Ain't no one to blame for this but Mike," he said gruffly, stroking her hair. "You can't save everyone, Freckles. The universe don't work that way."

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Next chapter: Kate makes another trip into the past to save Jack (and of course, Sawyer), but will she be successful this time? ;) 


	7. Chapter 7

Thanks for the reviews. I'm glad you don't think I need to change the rating -- I was actually less worried about Jack being shot than the idea of Sayid taking Michael for "a walk" into the jungle... but that's honestly what I think he would have done if he'd known Michael was the real killer at the time.

Btw, I was wrong in the first chapter -- I said there was only one alternate timeline for season two, but there's actually two. ;)

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Chapter 7. Worry

Sitting alone on the dunes, watching the men bring down the bodies for burial, it occurred to Kate that she'd been going about this time travel thing all wrong.

If she wanted to make a difference, she had to focus on the things that she _could _change, the things she had control over, starting with her own past actions. This time when she went back, she had to ensure that she didn't follow Jack and the others when they went after Michael, so that they wouldn't be forced to surrender their weapons and head home. If they caught him this time, maybe things would be different… Maybe they could convince him to let them help him come up with a plan.

She was still sitting there thinking, hugging her knees to her chest, staring out to sea, when a voice broke into her thoughts.

"We're ready when you are, Kate."

Glancing up, she saw Sayid coming up the hill beside her.

"Actually, there's something else I have to do," she told him, knowing that even if she had the power to erase it, she couldn't go through with he was asking her to do.

She couldn't say goodbye.

Standing up, she turned towards the path through the jungle, but he took her wrist gently, holding her back. "I understand that this is difficult for you – it's never easy losing someone we love," here his voice wavered, and she knew that he was probably the one person on this island who could relate to the hollowness she felt, "but I think it would mean a lot to the others if you said something. Just a few words."

She looked down the beach, at the freshly dug graves, and the group of survivors beginning assemble around them, and her heart ached, so much that she was amazed her body could contain it. It was all too painful, too real. "I'm sorry," she choked out, freeing herself from him. "I can't."

Seeing how disappointed he looked, wishing that there was some way she could spare him the same hurt, she added, "I'm sorry about Shannon – if there's anything I can do…" and with that, she ran into the jungle, leaving him staring after her, confused, as she fled as far from him, the beach, and Jack's death, as she could, collapsing once she was inside the Hatch.

She could still see Jack's blood, staining the concrete; closing her eyes, she wished that she could see his face one more time…

…Opening them again to the sound of his muffled voice calling out to her and Sawyer.

"We're in here! Michael locked us in the armoury!"

"What'd he say?" Sawyer asked, frowning at her, as they moved towards the door.

"Just get the button, would you?" she instructed as it beeped, letting them know that the timer was about to run out, flashing back to the purple light that had enveloped the island, and that _noise_. That was one experience she didn't want to relive if she could help it. "I'm sure they'll explain."  
The combination was still embedded in her memory from the last time; entering it, she swung open the door to find Locke staring at her. "How did you—?"

"Lucky guess," she told him with an airy laugh, rushing forward to embrace Jack as he came out behind him.

"I'm so glad you're okay," she whispered, burying her face in his neck, feeling how real and warm and alive he was; he froze at her touch, not moving, either to escape her, or hug her back, and, remembering that this would be the second time in less than a week that she'd thrown herself at him, she released him, determined not to upset their relationship any further.

"Sorry," she said, clearing her throat awkwardly when Locke raised an eyebrow at them, searching for an excuse to explain her behaviour. "I just… you had me a little worried there. I thought he'd hurt you."

With a slight nod, and a wary smile, he turned back to the armoury, taking a gun for himself, and offering one to Locke.

"What're you doing, Jack?" Locke asked him, making no move to take it.

"We're going after him," he explained, and reluctantly, Locke accepted the weapon, loading it, and tucking it into the waistband of his khakis.

"Hey, what happened?" Sawyer asked, coming back from the geodome, and the button, his brow furrowed as he watched Jack move around like a man on a mission.

"Michael went after Walt," Locke explained, and he sighed.

"He went after Walt?"

"Pulled a gun on me," Locke continued, before Jack finished for him, "Locked us both in there and went after Walt."

Stuffing enough water bottles into his pack to last him a couple of days, he swung it onto his back, pausing when Sawyer ducked into the armoury, coming out with a gun of his own. "Hey, what're you doing?"

"What's it look like? I'm coming with you," he told him, his jaw set, and Jack frowned.

"You're still on antibiotics."

Loading his riffle for emphasis, determined not to take no for an answer, Sawyer quipped, "It's a good thing I'm travelling with my doctor then," and while Jack still didn't look happy, he didn't offer anything more in the way of an argument, either, leading the way out into the jungle.

"Well?" he asked with an air of impatience once they were standing in the sunlight.

"I can't tell you it's definitely Michael but it looks like his boot print," Locke agreed as he bent to study a footprint in a patch of mud.

Everyone seemed to have forgotten about her; remembering which direction they'd followed him in last time, Kate pretended to scour the area, pointing out a second, identical boot print, one that she knew without a doubt was Michael's. "There's one over here too," she announced, and Locke came over to her, nodding.

"That looks like a trail."

Jack didn't need to be told twice. "Let's go," he ordered, starting down the hill, towards the jungle, calling back over his shoulder, "Kate, stay with the button."

She wanted to go with him, remembering what had happened the last time she left his side, but she needed him to find Michael this time, so she called back, "Okay."

He seemed to be steeling himself for an argument, turning back to her, surprised. "That's it?" he asked, the subtext being, "Are you feeling all right?"

"That's it," she agreed, forcing a smile. "Just be careful, okay?"

"Okay," he said, and the grin he gave her was genuine this time. "See you when we get back."

She watched them hike down the slope until they disappeared from view, then went back inside to wait, pacing around the kitchen, and pressing the button three more times, before deciding to take a nap. With all the travelling backwards and forwards in time, she couldn't remember the last time she'd slept; it felt like decades had passed since that night she almost drowned on the beach.

The timer woke her up one hundred and eight minutes later, and she sat at the table, chewing her nails, until Charlie and Hurley came to relieve her.

Once they had things under control, she headed back down to the beach, where she made small talk with Sun and Claire over dinner, dreaming that she was back at Jack's funeral, before she heard Locke's voice outside her tent, low and frantic, mingled with Sayid's calmer, more rational one.

"We'll send a team to recover them at first light," the Iraqi was saying when she scrambled through the flap, into the darkness outside, her stomach clenching with fear when she saw that Locke was alone, his clothes tattered and covered with blood.

She wondered dully whose it was.

He seemed fine.

"Where're Jack and Sawyer?" she asked, trying to convince herself that they'd stayed at the Hatch to take care of Michael, who was probably hurt and dehydrated after his long hike, but their sympathetic looks told her that this wasn't the case.

"Oh no…" she whispered, shaking her head when she realised why Sayid was talking about sending someone back. Why Locke looked like he'd barely escaped with his life.

They hadn't been captured.

They were dead.

This couldn't be happening. Not again.

"I'm sorry, Kate. I know you were close to both of them," Locke said, putting a comforting hand on her arm, but she brushed it off, hating him for being the one to survive, to come home. He was the first one to sit down at Tom's campfire, to surrender, to become one of _them_. To give up. "They gave us the chance to turn back, but Jack and Sawyer… they weren't willing to negotiate."

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Damn Michael! For a character who hardly did anything, he was actually quite crucial to a lot of the major arcs for seasons two and three!

Next chapter: Kate goes back to season one to put an end to his schemes once and for all... but what will she do? ;)


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks for the reviews. I know some of you are getting frustrated by the fact that Jack and Kate still aren't in a relationship, so I should say that while this _is_ a Jate story, it's not in the strictest sense a romance fic. After posting something like 14 stories on this site, I felt like I was repeating myself, so I wanted to do something a little different this time, something more in line with my own preferences as a writer, because believe it or not, most of my original work is character-driven genre stuff.

So while Kate's issues with Jack were the catalyst for whole time-travelling thing, her first priority has become damage control, as anyone who's seen _The Butterfly Effect_ will know... That's not to say that Jack and Kate will never be together, though, because I have something pretty interesting (I hope) planned for the next timeline... ;)

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Chapter 8. The Raft

Trudging back to her tent after hearing that she'd gotten both Jack _and_ Sawyer killed this time, Kate felt numb; she wanted to cry, but she had no tears left. She'd been so sure that by focusing on her own actions, she'd be able to control the outcome this time, but the truth hit her like a physical blow: she _had_ no control. She couldn't stop Jack from being a hero, or Sawyer, a rebel. It was just who they were.

Michael, on the other hand, was neither of those things. He was just a father in a desperate situation. If she could go back and save Walt, if she could keep him with the rest of the group, everyone else would be safe too. All of those deaths: Shannon, Ana, Libby, Sawyer, Jack, even Eko… could be prevented.

All she had to do was burn the second raft.

It was so simple, so obvious; she couldn't believe that the idea hadn't come to her sooner.

Closing her eyes, she tried to put herself back into the funk she'd been in the night she and Sun poisoned Michael, when Sawyer had outed her in front of the whole camp, and then she was there, standing by the fire, prodding the flames with a stick.

"I'm back on the raft," she heard Sawyer say in his deep, southern drawl, glancing up to see him approaching her almost timidly, and she fought the urge to run into his arms in her relief, since in this timeline, she was supposed to be mad at him.

"Glad to hear it," she told him, biting back a smile, knowing that there wasn't _going to be_ a raft for him to win a place on by the time she was done. The island was their home now; it was better for everyone if they stayed.

"Michael's gonna cowboy up – we set sail tomorrow," he went on, still not apologising, and this time, she actually smiled.

"Well, good luck. I hope it all goes well for you."

He gave her a strange look, and she could tell that he was trying to figure out whether or not she was being sarcastic. "Thanks," he said uncomfortably, seeming to decide that she was brushing him off, muttering something about having to pack before striding over to his tent and disappearing inside

Watching him go, she was struck by the sudden, almost singular urge to go to the caves and see Jack, but she was supposed to be angry with him too, for accusing her of something that she had, in fact, done, but could never admit to. She couldn't let him know that she'd lied to him again, not when he was still getting over the last time. He'd never trust her again after that.

With Sawyer busy packing for tomorrow's launch, Jin at the caves doing the same, and Michael in no condition to protect the raft, if ever there was a perfect moment to destroy it, this was it.

Stuffing the box of matches she'd used on the campfire into her pocket, she set off down the beach, every muscle in her body taut, praying that no one would ask her where she was going, or what she was planning to do when she got there.

When no one did, giving her the cold shoulder as if she wasn't there at all, she realised that she had Sawyer to thank for newfound status as a social pariah. They were all afraid of her, even Claire; as she stopped by the raft, digging out the box of matches, she flashed back on the look of fear and disgust on the younger woman's face as she clutched Aaron tighter, unable to believe that she'd trusted their lives to the hands of a wanted criminal. While she knew that they'd get over it eventually; they already had; it still hurt; and they wondered why she hadn't volunteered to tell them from the start.

Striking the first match, she tossed it into the cabin, then another one onto the deck for good measure. The raft had to be beyond saving by the time anyone realised what was happening, or else it would all be for nothing. She wouldn't get a second chance.

Adding a third match so that both ends were in flames, watching the smoke curl into the night sky, she wondered if she should have gone to the_ Black Rock_ for some dynamite, but an explosion would raise too many questions.

Hearing the first startled cries as someone spotted her handiwork, she backed up into the shadows, tossing the rest of the matches into the jungle, and waiting for Sayid and Sawyer to arrive at the scene before wandering back down, trying to look as shocked as they were.

"Don't just stand there, Freckles – do somethin'," Sawyer barked when he saw her, fanning the flames with his shirt; reluctantly, she splashed a container of sea water onto the deck to keep up the pretence of helping, but she made sure that most of it went onto the sand, much to his frustration.

"Nice work," he grunted, shooting her a dirty look when it failed to make much of a difference, and she knew that he was wondering how she could be such a good shot, and still have such lousy aim.

She didn't feel guilty though as the flames continued to rise higher, tearing through the bamboo, in spite of their combined efforts; she was saving his life, whether he knew it or not.

Even with everyone pitching in, by the time they managed to put the fire out, all that remained of the raft was a charred husk; only the pieces of wreckage that made up the cabin, and some blackened steel beams remained untouched.

It was useless. There was no way anyone was leaving on it tomorrow, or any day after that.

Glancing around at the group, listening to their collective murmur of disappointment, she saw Sawyer watching her intently, scrutinizing her, as if, after her sudden change of attitude, he thought that she might have had something to do with it.

Sayid, however, had another scapegoat in mind. "Where's Locke?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous, and she lost the sense of triumph she was feeling. She'd seen that look on his face before, right before he took Michael into the jungle. "Has anyone seen John Locke?"

"He went back to the caves," someone said, and without stopping to explain, Sayid stormed into the trees, his expression set, determined.

"Where're you going, Sayid? What're you gonna do?" Kate asked, scurrying alongside him, but he didn't have to tell her, because she already knew.

He was going to kill Locke.

By morning, there was going to be another death on her hands, and even though part of her wanted to believe that he deserved it, after ruining their attempts to triangulate Rousseau's signal, and sending her down the Hatch and into the barracks ahead of him, and leaving Jack and Sawyer to die, she couldn't let it happen.

It would just be another disaster for her to fix.

"Stop!" she cried, grabbing his elbow roughly, tugging on it, trying to slow him down, to get him to listen to what she had to say. "Locke didn't burn the raft – I did!"

When he finally acknowledged her, coming to a complete halt, his eyes were hard and full of menace, and for the first time in her life, she could see why people were so afraid of him. "And why would you do that, Kate?" he growled.

"Because I didn't want anyone else to die!" she confessed, and he softened, appearing almost sympathetic, thinking of Boone, but the change was only momentary.

"If we stay here, we'll all die," he told her, turning back to the beach without another word, and she knew that her plan had failed.

As soon as the sun came up, they would start building another raft, and this time, no one would be able to get close enough to destroy it.

She couldn't stop it, couldn't stop the Others from taking Walt, couldn't stop Michael from going after him, unless…

Unless, this time, she stopped the crash itself.

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Next chapter(s): What if, in order to remain free so that she can prevent the crash, Kate chose _not_ to kill Wayne, and went to L.A. instead? ;) 


	9. Chapter 9

Thanks for the reviews, especially Dani3la, for calling this story "genius". :) It was just what I needed after a really crappy day -- you have no idea how happy it makes me to hear that there are people out there who get it.

Now here is where things get really AU...

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Chapter 9. Wayne 

Kate's next trip into the past was by far the most surreal, as she found herself sitting on the steps of her parent's old house, playing with the lighter she'd used to kill Wayne. Any minute now, his truck would come rattling down the driveway, and give her the chance to repeat what was arguably the biggest mistake of her life, or walk away and never look back. Part of her, the part that still felt no remorse, could see a certain satisfaction in blowing him up a second time, but in hindsight, she knew that if she did, she'd never be free from him.

His ghost would follow her to the other side of the world, to places as remote as the island, tainting every moment of happiness, every worthwhile experience, she managed to find from then on. It would make meaningful relationships almost impossible: Tom, Kevin, Sawyer, _Jack_… not just because of the moral grey area that her criminal past presented; which he seemed to have accepted; but because she'd never be able to stop looking over her shoulder. She'd never be able to settle down, just like the marshal had taunted her.

It would ruin her life, but it didn't have to.

Stuffing the lighter into the pocket of her jeans, she stood and let herself into the house, making her way to the kitchen, her eyes wandering over the cheap knick-knacks and framed pictures her mother had decorated it with to make it feel more like a home, and less like the prison it was in actuality. She had never hated anything, even the cages at the Hydra station, as much as she hated that place; she would've loved to see it all burn, but instead, she switched the gas off, and opened the window, letting the butane dissolve harmlessly into the night air.

She didn't think she could face the man himself, though; not without changing her mind; so when she heard his truck outside, she ducked out the back door, slipping around the front in the shadows to retrieve her bike. Stumbling onto the porch, he squinted in her direction when the engine roared to life, but he didn't call out to her, seeming to think that he'd imagined it in his drunken state.

She'd already put her life in order to go on the run, quitting her job, and giving up her apartment, so, figuring that her best course of action now was to get as far from Cedar Rapids, and Wayne, as possible, she decided to go to L.A., where she wouldn't be tempted. If she could find Jack and build up his trust, maybe he could help her convince the pilot to cancel their flight…

At least that's what she tried to tell herself she was doing; that it was all for the greater good, and not her own desperate need to find out what could have happened between them if it wasn't for the obstacles that kept getting in their way on the island. It wasn't personal gain. Not really.

Her mother was clearing plates off the counter when she walked into Keith's Diner; watching her, so much more like the woman who'd raised her than the last time she'd seen her, she wanted to run into her arms like she would have when she was a little girl, but she wasn't a little girl anymore, and she could never forgive her for taking _his _side, for turning her in. She was her mother. She was supposed to want to help her, but she didn't. She never had.

Glancing up from her work, her mother acknowledged her with a strained smile, coming over to meet her as soon as she was done. "Coffee, pie… both?"

Eyeing the bandage on her wrist, remembering how she'd tried to lie about it the last time she was there, how everything about their relationship was a lie, Kate didn't bother to make small talk with her this time. "Actually, I'm here to say goodbye," she told her, not realising, until the words were out of her mouth, how fitting they were. In less than a year, her mother would be dead; in some ways, that made leaving her easier, knowing that Wayne would never get the chance to taking his beatings too far.

"When you say 'goodbye'…?" her mother prompted, frowning at her as she seemed to figure out what it was that Kate was trying to tell her.

"I mean I'm not coming back," she agreed, finding that she wasn't as sad as she thought she would be. While she knew that she would never stop loving her mother, the fragile relationship that they'd had had died the day she found out that everything she thought she knew about herself was built on a lie.

"Are you even going to tell me where you're going?" her mother pressed, raising her eyebrow, and even though she tried to sound cold, disapproving, Kate could see the hurt etched into her features.

And the defeat.

"L.A.," she confessed, softening towards her, but not enough to change her mind.

Her answer only seemed to confuse her mother further, since she'd never expressed any interest in L.A., or California before. She just wasn't the type to run off to Hollywood. "What's in L.A.?"

"My future," she told her with a grin, thinking of Jack; reaching into her pack, she pulled out the insurance policy she'd taken out when she was making preparations to kill Wayne.

"What's this?" her mother asked when she slid it across the counter to her, figuring that she should hold onto it anyway, just in case. Maybe Wayne would blow himself up one day. She could hope. But even if he didn't, she was glad to be rid of it, and the terrible burden she'd carried after his murder.

"It doesn't matter anymore," she said, standing up, and slinging her pack over her shoulder.

Giving her mother one last hug, and kissing her cheek, she headed out of the diner, pausing just long enough to add, "And Mom? I'd get that arm checked out if I were you – you never know what they might find," before turning and walking out of her life, most likely forever.

When she got settled again, she'd invite her to come stay with her, but she doubted that she would without Wayne.

She'd made her choice.

It was time for Kate to make hers.

Hopping back on her bike, she rode to the airport, discarding it there along with everything else that belonged to her old life. She'd already withdrawn her savings, and shut down her accounts, so she bought a ticket to L.A. for cash, boarding the plane with no idea what she was going to do when she got there beyond finding Jack. She didn't even know what she was going to say to him when she did, or if he would want anything to do with her in this reality, without the shared experience of the crash, but if there was one thing in her life that she'd always wished she could do over, it was getting to know him.

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Next chapter: Jack and Kate meet in L.A. (without Michael to cause anyone's deaths! Yay!) ;) 


	10. Chapter 10

Thanks for the reviews. I'm glad that you can all see what I've been building to! You'll be pleased to know that Kate is going to spend quite a few chapters in this timeline, but I won't tell you what the outcome of that is. I'm a little worried, though -- is anyone else a little confused and weirded out by the idea of Kate dating AU Jack? Is he even the same guy if he hasn't married Sarah, or gotten the tattoos, or become the leader of the survivors? It makes it hard to decide how far things should go... ;)

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Chapter 10. Soul Mates 

While in hindsight, she realised that it was naive, considering the size of its population, Kate hadn't expected there to be so many hospitals in L.A. Driving around the following morning with a map spread out across the passenger seat beside her, she wished she'd thought to ask Jack the name of the one that he worked at, but it had never seemed important before. She'd never expected to go there; life had been so much easier when she could just walk to the caves, or the Hatch, to see him.

It was almost midday by the time she reached St. Sebastian's, one of the final stops on her list, parking the car, and going inside to make _yet another_ enquiry.

"Excuse me? Can you tell me if there's a Jack Shephard working here, please?" she asked the woman parked behind a computer at the nurses' station, for what felt like the hundredth time that day, praying that she would be rewarded with a more encouraging answer than she had at the last ten hospitals she'd tried. She was almost ready to give up and start searching the phone book.

The woman didn't look up, shifting her gaze from the screen to a directory to the phone beside her as she said, in a professional monotone, "Just a moment, and I'll page him for you."

Still unsure of how to introduce herself, Kate tried to explain that all she wanted was confirmation that she was in the right place, but Jack must have been somewhere nearby, because no sooner had she finished making the call, than Kate found herself face to face with him, staring into his soulful dark eyes.

"Hi," was all she could manage, shocked as she was to see him standing in front of her in a dress shirt and lab coat, his hair long and boyish, so familiar, and yet so foreign to her at the same time.

"Dr. Shephard, this young lady was asking to see you," the woman at the desk informed him with a fleeting glance in their direction, before returning her attention to her work.

After thanking her, Jack acknowledged Kate with a friendly, albeit professional smile. "You must be Mr. Collins's daughter – Jessica, right?" he said, filling in the gaps when she stumbled over her words, trying to figure out how to strike up a conversation with him without freaking him out.

When she didn't answer right away, not wanting to lie, and start their relationship off on the wrong foot this time, he set off down the hall at a brisk pace, stopping while he waited for her to follow.

"Let me get his chart and I'll fill you in on his condition."

He led her to a room a few doors down from the nurses' station, where an old man lay asleep, hooked up to an IV and several monitors.

Feeling uncomfortable at intruding on his rest, she was relieved when Jack glanced up from making notations on his chart, understanding dawning across his features when he registered her expression.

"You have no idea who he is, do you?" he said, cocking an eyebrow at her, managing to look both confused and entertained at the same time.

"No," she confessed, letting out the breath she was holding, and they both laughed to break the tension, before he frowned at her, concentrating on her face, as if he were trying remember where he knew her from, or if he should.

"Do you mind if I ask who _you _are?" he said as they stepped back out into the hall, closing the door behind her. "I feel like we've met somewhere before."

She felt a little jolt of excitement at the idea that the connection they'd shared on the island might even transcend it. None of that had happened to him yet, so there was no way for him to remember who she was, or how he felt about her, but he seemed to know that she was someone worth talking to. It was almost enough to make her believe in soul mates.

"What if I told you we have – or _we will_ – three years from now, when our plane crashes on an island?" she told him, and just like she knew he would, he laughed.

"I'd say you have one hell of an imagination there," he assured her with a grin, shaking his head. "A plane crash – that's a good one."

None of that mattered now, not until the time came to prevent it, so she held out her hand, finding it strange to be telling him her name after she'd heard it come out of his mouth a thousand times, in fear, anger, comfort, teasing… "In that case, I'm Kate. I guess you could say I'm a fan."

"Nice to meet you, Kate," he said, shaking her hand, drawing out the contact for a few seconds longer than was necessary before letting it go. "I'm Jack – but I guess you already knew that."

He smiled at her, holding her gaze, looking slightly dazed by their encounter before adding, "Are you a doctor?"

"Not really," she admitted, feeling her face grow hot, hoping that he wouldn't ask her what she was doing there, or how she'd found out about his work if she wasn't. "Not even close. In fact, I didn't even go to college," she finished nervously.

"A patient?" he tried again.

She shook her head, raising an eyebrow at him. "Do I look like I need surgery to you?"

He chuckled as he added, "And you're not a relative…

"So you just like hospitals?" he suggested, looking dubious, but not concerned that she was someone he should alert security to. In fact, if she had to hazard a guess, by the twinkle in his eyes, and the way his mouth turned up at the corners, she'd say that she had him intrigued. He was definitely flirting with her.

"What can I say?" she joked. "The smell of disinfectant just does it for me, I guess."

He laughed again, a real, infectious laugh, running his fingers through his bangs, looking ten years younger than the man she'd known on the island, and she decided that he didn't do it nearly enough. That was one thing she wouldn't mind changing. "You know, you really should get a new hobby. Hanging out in hospitals isn't exactly my idea of a good time."

"Oh really? And what is your idea of a good time, Dr. Shephard?" she countered, amazed by how familiar it all was, the two of them teasing each other, just like old times.

"Lately? Getting home early enough for a night in front of the TV." Sobering as she seemed to strike a nerve, he looked so sad and lonely all of a sudden that it made her heart break for him; remembering what Juliet told her about him being married, she snuck a peak at his left hand, but if he had been by that point, he wasn't anymore.

"I bet your girlfriend appreciates that," she said, testing him, just in case, grinning in spite of the sympathy she felt for him when he let out a self-deprecating laugh.

"I'm sure she would if I had one."

So he _was _single.

She could definitely work with that.

An awkward silence fell over them as the mood changed, and clearing his throat, he scratched his head, shifting his weight. "Listen, I haven't done this in a while," he confessed, and she could tell that he was nervous, "but would you like to get coffee some time? Or a drink? I have to get back to work, but I'd really like to continue this."

Even a casual date was better than anything she could have hoped for from their first meeting; she was sure he'd be a tougher nut to crack. It was strange what a difference not being a fugitive on an island made. "How about lunch?" she suggested, determined not to let him go until she was sure that she'd made a lasting impression. "Even spinal surgeons have to eat, right?"

"Right," he agreed, looking pleasantly surprised at how eager she was. He almost seemed to have been expecting her to reject him. She wondered why that was. "It'll have to be at the cafeteria, though," he added with a sheepish smile, and she thought she understood. He didn't have a lot of time for relationships. Most women probably got tired of waiting for him and moved on. "I've got a patient in the ICU, so I can't go too far."

"That's okay," she told him with a grin, too excited by the prospect of a real date with him to care that it wasn't somewhere more romantic. "I've eaten in worse places."

* * *

Poor (AU) Jack is confused, but he probably thinks it's his lucky day!

Next chapter: Kate has lunch with AU Jack... and maybe even dinner as well... ;)


	11. Chapter 11

Thanks for the reviews. I was so excited when I logged on this morning and saw that there were 14 new ones! That's almost a record for me! (I got 16 for the first chapter of "Secrets and Lies" and SassieLostie and I get quite a few) I'm glad none of you thought it was weird. ;)

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Chapter 11. Double Date 

"So, Kate, do you live here in L.A.?" Jack asked, taking a sip of his coffee, once they were seated in a quiet corner of the cafeteria. He was eyeing her with the same intense look he'd been giving her since she'd admitted that she wasn't there to see his patient, as if he still wasn't quite sure what was happening.

He didn't seem to be fighting it either, though, which to Kate, was a plus. It meant that he felt the same pull towards her that she felt towards him, even if he didn't understand it.

"No, actually, I just moved here from Iowa," she told him to keep the conversation flowing, and he rewarded her with a smile that made her heart melt. She couldn't remember the last time he'd looked at her like that, without some hint of aloofness, or hurt. It made her feel like he was right about starting over, and letting go of the past; that there really was a second chance out there for them, without all of the baggage they'd brought with them to the island.

"A country girl, huh? So you're gonna need someone to show you around the city, help you get settled in? You're probably experiencing a bit of a culture shock." His eyes were twinkling as he deadpanned this; he seemed to be building up to something.

"Are you volunteering?" she asked him, raising an eyebrow, grinning when he teased her by trying to make it look like this was entirely her own interpretation.

"I guess that depends on whether or not you decide to take me up on it," he told her with a coy smile.

She couldn't think of anything she'd rather do than let him show her his hometown, so she agreed, doing her best to hide her excitement at the prospect of a second, _real_, date. "I'd like that."

"Great." Putting his fork down, he leant back in his chair, fixing her with his full attention. She could almost see the gears turning inside his head as he said, "If this is your first time in L.A., you've probably never been to Santa Monica after dark?"

"Never," she agreed, grinning in anticipation, and he nodded, pleased.

"Do you have the number of the place you're staying? If I get finished here early, maybe I could give you a call and we could start tonight." He seemed to be testing the waters, seeing how willing she was before he gave up his casual front.

"Sounds like a plan," she assured him, impressed by the unassuming way he'd asked her for her phone number, and he took a notepad and pen from the pocket of his coat, sliding them across the table to her.

She scribbled her name and the number of her motel down before tearing the page out and handing it to him, watching the careful way he folded it and tucked it into the breast pocket of his shirt.

"I've got a consultation in about ten minutes," he said, checking his watch, before standing, "but it was nice meeting you, Kate." He held out his hand, letting the handshake linger when she accepted it, and she wondered if he felt the same spark that surged through her palm. Something about the way he held her gaze made her think that he did, and that he wanted to explore it as much as she did. "I guess I'll see you tonight."

* * *

Kate had never considered herself the kind of woman who waited by the phone for a guy to call, but she found herself pacing her motel room that evening, watching the minutes tick by. She was afraid that once Jack had time to stop and think about it how strange it all was; how suspicious, he'd change his mind, but he didn't. 

He was just busy.

It was almost eight by the time the phone rang, startling her so that she almost jumped out of her skin, but she managed to slow her heart enough to answer with a casual, "Hey", like she hadn't been waiting, even though she was sure it must be obvious to him that she had.

She'd already showered and dressed for their date in a dark tank top and form-fitting jeans, even going so far as to put make up on, in spite of the knowledge that it wouldn't make much difference to him, so, after a brief conversation, they agreed that he would pick her up just as soon as he'd had the chance to go home and change his own clothes.

He was wearing a leather jacket, and a tight black t-shirt that reminded her of what a great body he had when she climbed into the car, his hair combed back out of his face, but still a little wild, making her miss the crew cut he'd had on the island.

"Have you ever thought about cutting it really short?" she asked him, reaching over to run her fingers through it, not realising until after she'd done it that, as far as he was concerned, she'd probably overstepped her bounds. "And not shaving every day. I think it would make you look kind of sexy. Hardcore," she added, remembering the way she'd teased him about his tattoos.

To her surprise, he didn't shy away from the contact, his gaze locked on hers, waiting for her hand to drop before letting out a soft chuckle. "I'll keep that in mind."

"You should," she agreed, relieved that she hadn't embarrassed him, wondering why things weren't more awkward between them. For some reason, even though he wasn't the Jack that she knew, the Jack she'd met on the island, when she was with him, he still made her feel the same. He still made her feel safe.

He took her to one of the restaurants on the boardwalk, and after a more leisurely meal than they the one they'd had in the cafeteria, they walked across the road to the pier.

Marvelling at the way everything was lit up with coloured lights, like a kaleidoscope, set against the backdrop of the ocean, and the night sky, she could see why he'd wanted to bring her there. It was beautiful. And romantic.

"You never answered my question – how _did_ you know who I was today?" he asked her during a lull in the conversation as they strolled along the planks, and she felt herself growing defensive, knowing him well enough by now to realise that he wasn't going to let it go, not if he really wanted an answer. His dogged determination was one of his best and worst qualities.

"Does it matter? We're here now," she said, trying to keep the mood light, but when he shot her a look that it told her that it did, she realised she was going to have to give him something more substantial.

"I saw an article on you in a medical journal," she lied, praying that he wouldn't call her on it by informing her that no one had ever published anything on him, and he relaxed slightly, but it wasn't enough to satisfy him for long.

"I thought you said you weren't a doctor?" he reminded her, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"I'm not," she agreed, thinking on her feet, searching for something that was at least partially true. "My mom was just diagnosed with cancer, and I've been trying to find a doctor for her. When I heard how respected you were here, I thought you might be able to help me."

He stopped, studying her for a long moment, and she was afraid that he was going to point out the holes in this story, but he just nodded, turning back to the ocean as he resumed walking. "If you give me her prognosis, I'll ask around and see what I can do."

It was only once she noticed that he wasn't looking at her anymore, that she realised she'd hurt him. He was doing a good job of covering it, but she'd been in the doghouse with him enough times to recognise his behaviour.

"Hey, that's not why I agreed to go out with you," she told him, coming to another dead stop, reaching out to touch his jaw instinctively, and he met her eyes, waiting for her to offer a better explanation.

"I really like you, Jack," she told him when she had his attention, finding it somehow easier to admit under these circumstances, where there was nothing standing in the way of them being together, and something about the way she was looking at him seemed to convince him, because he put his hand over hers, stroking her fingers lightly with his thumb.

She wasn't sure what made her bold enough to do it; it had taken being driven half out of her mind to give her the courage last time; but as their eyes locked, and he continued to search her expression, she pushed herself up onto her toes and kissed him softly on the mouth.

And this time, he didn't hesitate before kissing her back.

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Next chapter: Kate continues to get to know AU Jack, but should I pick up from where I left off (keeping in mind that I don't write smut as such!), or skip ahead to their next date? ;) 


	12. Chapter 12

Thanks for the reviews. I thought about what you said, and I know some of you won't be happy with this chapter, but I don't think it's out of character. (This is exactly the opposite situation to "Picking Up The Pieces"!) I think Kate is afraid of losing Jack _again_ before she has the chance to express her feelings, and Jack needs something in his life besides work, which is one of the reasons I always thought he latched onto Sarah. ;)

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Chapter 12. This Time 

"What was that for?" Jack asked her when the kiss ended, and they came up for air, surveying her with a surprised look, but he was smiling.

"I don't know," she confessed, feeling happier than she had since the night this time travelling thing began, when she'd watched him choose Juliet's company over hers. "I guess I just wanted to see how it felt."

"And how _did_ it feel?" he shot back, his flirtatious streak returning, but there was an underlying tenderness to his actions now, as he continued to cup her hand against the side of his face.

"Exactly how I imagined it would," she said, testing the boundaries between them by sliding her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and, after a brief hesitation, he gripped her waist tighter, his palms warm against the bare skin they exposed.

In the months since meeting Jack, she'd tried to anticipate what it would be like to have him this close, touching her without resistance, but those fantasies paled in comparison to the excitement she felt now as he kissed her. It was different to anything she'd ever experienced, completely new and familiar at the same time.

"I should take you home," he said after a long moment, breaking the kiss with a smaller one, and she could tell that he was trying to be a gentleman, so she reached up and brushed her lips against his ear as she whispered, "I've got a better idea – why don't you take me back to your place?"

She wasn't ready to say goodnight yet, after everything she'd been through to get there, but her words had the opposite effect to the one she was hoping for as he released her, letting his hands fall back to his sides, and she was afraid that she'd been too forward.

"I like you too, Kate," he said, combing his fingers awkwardly through his hair, "and I had a really great time with you today – I don't want you to feel like you have to sleep with me to get me to go out with you again… _or _to help your mom."

While she understood where he was coming from with this, even thought it was sweet; the Jack she knew had never been one to push the physical aspects of their relationship; she couldn't help feeling frustrated by his rejection, well intentioned as it was. "I know," she agreed, knowing that he could never fully appreciate what she was trying to tell him as she added, "but that's not what this is about. We could both die tomorrow… I don't wanna regret missing another chance."

When he didn't offer any resistance, she reached for him again, but he took hold of her shoulders, keeping her at arm's length, though their faces remained inches apart. "Who says if we do this, you won't regret it?"

"Who says I will?" she countered, watching his defences crumble in spite of his efforts to remain in control.

"You don't know me, Kate," he reminded her gently, but when he didn't break from her completely, she knew that he wasn't as immune to the attraction between them as he wanted to be.

"I know everything I need to know," she assured him, and this time, when she closed the distance between them, bracing her forehead against his, he didn't push her away, his coming out as ragged as her own as she added, "I'd rather regret something I did, than something I didn't do. Wouldn't you?"

"I just don't wanna take advantage of you," he breathed against her lips before she could kiss him again, but he didn't try to stop her when she did, nor did he drive her back to the motel, in spite of his protests, and she couldn't help feeling a little like she was the one taking advantage of his need to feel connected to someone.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" he asked her as he unlocked his door, his dark eyes questioning, and even though she knew she should take the out he was giving her and let him drive her home, she responded by backing him into the apartment, kicking it shut behind them.

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

She didn't wait for him to ask her a third time, sliding his jacket off, and letting it fall to the carpet, on the way to the bedroom. He seemed to realise how serious she was then, because he stopped trying to convince her that it was a bad idea after that, parting from her just long enough to lift her tank top up over her head.

As he set her gently on her back on his bed, resting over her, she added his t-shirt to the ever-growing pile on the on the floor, running her fingers over his bicep, tracing the smooth, unblemished skin she found there. The tattoos that had come as such as surprise to her when she met him were gone, along with whatever painful experience had prompted him to get them, the one that he never seemed to want to tell her about her. The scar she'd made with her awkward stiches was still somewhere in the future too, she noticed, as he stopped kissing her to nuzzle her throat, her eyes travelling over his bare back, drinking in every detail of him in the moonlight.

He wasn't the same man that she'd fallen in love with on the island, but the way he looked at her, the way he made her feel when she was with him, when he touched her, convinced her that he was still Jack, just a more innocent, less wounded version. He hadn't been hurt yet, by her, or whoever had come before her to make him so afraid to trust her, and this time, she was determined to make sure that he stayed that way.

She was going to take care of him, like she should have on the island, instead of working against him, giving him a never-ending list of reasons to resent her. She was going to show him how much she loved him, every day, so that he wouldn't be left guessing.

This time, she was going to do things differently.

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I don't know about you guys, but I like the idea of Kate trying to rush their relationship, and the role reversal of her being the one who's the most emotionally invested in it. On the show, it's always Jack putting his heart on the line, and getting left hanging... (I know that will at least appeal to you Tahti!). :) 

Next chapter: The morning after... ;)


	13. Chapter 13

Thanks for the reviews. After so many of you told me that they should wait, I'm glad that you're okay with the fact that they didn't. ;)

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Chapter 13. Silence 

The last thing Kate remembered was falling asleep with Jack's arms around her, his cheek resting against her shoulder blade, but when she woke up the next morning, he was gone.

Struggling into a sitting position with the sheets clutched to her chest, squinting at her surroundings, she listened for sounds of life, but she couldn't hear the shower running, or him in the kitchen, making breakfast. Everything was still and silent.

Too silent.

Panicking, she retrieved the various articles of her clothing from where they lay strewn across the carpet, throwing them on hurriedly, and leaving the bedroom to look for Jack, but he was nowhere in sight. The apartment was empty.

Sinking into a chair at the table, she felt sick, wondering if he saw what had happened between them as a one-night stand, nothing more, mentally kicking herself for throwing herself at him so forcefully, refusing to take no for an answer. In trying to make up for Sawyer, she'd put herself into the same position, only reversed; he would never respect her now, not if he thought that she was one of those women who went home with every guy who bought them dinner.

She was still sitting there chewing on her nails, berating herself, when the phone rang ten minutes later. She wasn't Jack's girlfriend, nor was she ever likely to be; he'd made that fact abundantly clear; she would have left the machine to pick it up, except that it was his voice that came over the speaker.

"Hey, Kate, it's Jack – if you're still there, please pick up," he said with an audible sigh, and the painful knot in her stomach loosened as she went over to answer it. If he was taking the time to call her, it couldn't be that he was avoiding her.

"Jack?"

"Hey, I'm glad I caught you," he greeted her, the relief in his tone palpable. "You must think I'm a jerk for taking off like that, but I promise you, there's a good explanation."

When she didn't answer, waiting for him to continue, he went on, "One of the nurses paged me at four-thirty this morning – a bunch of college kids got into a DUI accident, and they were messed up pretty bad." He sighed again, and she could imagine him scratching his head, running his fingers through his hair. "We lost two of them. I didn't wanna wake you, or ask you to leave, so…" he trailed off, embarrassed, and she found herself relaxing, relieved that he had legitimate cause for abandoning her the morning after sleeping with her.

He was just being Jack, putting everyone else ahead of himself, like always. As disappointed as she was, it made it easy to forgive, except that…

"You couldn't've left me a note?" she asked him accusingly as she let out the breath she was holding, and she could her the confusion in his tone as he answered, "I did. I put it on the pillow beside you so you wouldn't miss it."

Taking the phone into the bedroom, she saw that he was right, rescuing a sheet of paper from between the edge of the bed and the dresser. "I guess I must've knocked it off in my sleep," she confessed, feeling her face flush with embarrassment, even though there was no way that he could know what a state she'd worked herself into.

"Next time, I'll leave in on the counter," he agreed with a gentle laugh, and even though she wasn't sure that she should take him literally, she couldn't help smiling at the idea of there being one. If he was still interested in her, then it meant she that hadn't screwed things up.

"If you're not doing anything today, maybe you could come to the hospital and we could have lunch again," he suggested, breaking the silence that followed.

"Sure," she agreed, thrilled that he wanted to see her again so soon, ecstatic when he added, "I haven't been able to get you out of my head all morning – no wonder I was off my game. I really wish I could have been there when you woke up."

_Next time_, she repeated to herself with a happy smile. The way things were going, it didn't seem like there would be any shortage of those.

They talked for a while longer, until he said, "I have to go, but there're leftovers in the fridge if you're hungry, and money for a cab, since I feel bad about leaving you stranded. I left the spare key on top of the microwave – just lock up when you leave, and you can give it back to me later."

By the time they hung up, Kate was feeling optimistic again, grinning as she made herself a cup of coffee. She liked being in Jack's apartment, even if he wasn't there to show it to her; it gave her a more detailed sense of who he was than his tent back on the island.

She could see that he was neat, almost to the point of being pedantic, just like she would have expected from the careful order he'd kept each of their infirmaries in, and not especially vain or materialistic, a fact that she'd already gleaned from his car. It was nice, but it didn't exactly scream money, any more than anything else he owned.

There were a couple of generic prints on the wall, but nothing else; it made her sad to see that there weren't any pictures, of him, or his friends, or even his parents. Nothing about the apartment was particularly homey, convincing her that he didn't spend much time there, in sharp contrast with his office, which was full of trophies and clippings, she noticed when she went to meet him there just before twelve. He even had novels tucked between the medical texts on his shelves, as if he did most of his reading there between shifts.

He was sitting at his desk when she knocked on the door, but he got up to greet her. "You look nice," he told her, taking in the skirt she was wearing; one of the few that she owned; approaching her with a shy smile, as if even though they'd spend the night together, he wasn't sure of the protocol.

"So do you," she teased him, eyeing his scrubs, and he relaxed, laughing, before giving in, pulling her into a long, almost apologetic, kiss.

"Can I tell you again how sorry I am?" he said, resting his forehead against hers while they waited for their breaths to return, and her heart swelled with happiness at how sweet and attentive he was being. None of it was an act; he seemed to mean every word.

"I think you'd better show me," she told him, and he kissed her again, breaking it before it reached the point where they would have had to close the door.

"I don't exactly have a lot of experience with this, you know," he confessed, still holding her, and she frowned at him, confused.

"Kissing?" She found that hard to believe. Especially after last night.

He let out a gentle, affectionate laugh, kissing her one final time before letting her go. "What I mean is," he explained, clearing his throat, his expression grave, "I don't normally bring women home on the first date."

"Oh, that," she agreed, flushing, and turning away from him to hide it. She wished that there were some way she could communicate to him that to her, he wasn't a stranger. "Technically it was two… and just so you know, I don't normally _go home_ with guys on the first date. In fact, last night was the first time I've ever done something like that."

"I'm glad," he told her with a warm smile, touching her waist gently as he steered her into the hall. "That's a good way to get yourself into trouble."

They took the same table in the cafeteria as the day before, and as Jack filled her in on the accident that had called him away from her, Kate decided that she could get used to a routine like this.

"So what about you – do you have a job lined up here yet?" he asked once they'd exhausted the topic, and she realised that beyond tracking him down, she hadn't thought much about what she would do once she arrived in L.A.

She was going to have to find a job, and more permanent accommodation, if she was going to stay in this timeline. She wouldn't be able to live off her savings forever, meagre as they were.

"I haven't really started looking," she confessed, making a mental note to pick up the paper, and drive around later, once he went back to work.

"If you're just looking for something to get you set up, there're a couple of positions in the pathology lab upstairs," he told her, and even though it sounded ideal; a job that wasn't waitressing, that would enable her to spend more time with him; she had to shake her head.

"I don't know anything about pathology," she confessed, stabbing her salad despondently, but he wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"You don't need to. You'll probably have to do a short course, but they'll provide you with most of the training to make sure you're doing everything right," he assured her, flashing her a teasing grin as he added, "Since I'm so respected here, I'll even put in a good word for you."

She couldn't argue with that, or the fact that she needed the income, so she nodded, smiling at him. "I'll find out about it. But if they _are_ desperate enough to hire me, you might have to start clearing your schedule – these lunch dates could become a regular thing."

He grinned at her, the kind of lopsided grin she missed from the early days of the island, nudging her leg under the table with his. "I'm looking forward to it."

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Don't worry, I will write a fluffy morning after scene (I have it planned out in my head and it will be a turning point in their relationship) but in this chapter, I wanted to focus on their awkwardness, and Kate's confusion over whether or not seducing Jack was a smart thing to do. 

Next chapter: Kate applies for the job at the hospital, and another date... maybe a quiet night in this time... ;)


	14. Chapter 14

Thanks for the reviews. I will try to get back to Diane and Christian and things like that eventually. ;)

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Chapter 14. Stepping Back 

After saying goodbye to Jack, and arranging to meet up with him later if he got off early enough, Kate spent the next hour answering questions, and filling out forms.

The positions he'd mentioned were entry level, basic reception duties, along with collecting and cataloguing samples to pass on, but she was content to be doing something constructive, especially if it meant doing it in a place where she was likely to run into him. She missed the freedom of being able to see him whenever she wanted, of being close to him, even when he was focused on leading.

Not a lot of people seemed interested in handling bodily fluids, so, after signing another ream of paperwork, including an application for the community college courses she would be required to take, they offered her a job on a probationary basis, and for the first time since leaving high school, she felt like she'd accomplished something worthwhile in the real world.

For the first time in three years, she wasn't a fugitive, she had a respectable job with a decent paycheck and a future, a chance to go to college, and the man that she loved, without all of the complications that had hindered their relationship on the island… all she needed was an apartment, and her life would be exactly what she'd fantasised about, before she'd killed Wayne and screwed it all up. She wouldn't have to run anymore; for the time being, at least, she could just _live_.

Jack was back in surgery by the time she was ready to leave, so rather than disturb him with her news, she bought one of the reference books the woman who'd interviewed her had recommended, and sat in her car at the beach reading until it got late enough to expect his call.

"I don't think I'm gonna be much fun tonight," he confessed an hour later when she picked up the phone. "We lost another one of those kids, during her second surgery – her lung collapsed before we could repair the damage…" She heard him sigh on the other end of the line, and her heart went out to him. He took each patient's death as a personal failing, even though those kids were dead the minute that they got into that car. "So if you wanna wait, and do something tomorrow…"

"How about I come over and cook you dinner, and we can have one of those quiet nights in front of the TV you were telling me about?" she suggested, not wanting to miss the chance to see him, and hating the idea of him home alone, brooding about something that he couldn't change.

There was a slight pause, and she was afraid that he was going to reject her offer, but then he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice, "If you don't think you'll be bored…"

Bored was not a word she would use to describe herself when spending time with him, so after dressing more casually, she climbed back into her car and drove over to his apartment.

"I'm sorry if I sounded rude on the phone," he said, taking the groceries she'd brought over, and greeting her with a brief, distracted kiss when he let her in. "I'm just tired."

He would have taken his hands from her waist then, but she locked her arms around his neck, grinning at him as she told him, "I feel like I should be the one apologising for that," and he laughed, brightening noticeably, to her relief.

"I'm glad you invited yourself over," he said, kissing her again, longer, and more thoroughly, this time.

"I'm glad I invited myself over too," she agreed when he released her, picking up the grocery bag, closing the door behind them as she followed him into the apartment.

He sat at the breakfast bar while she filled him in on her interview, directing her around the kitchen, and laughing at her when she proved how inept at cooking she was, and by the time dinner was ready, he seemed to have recovered enough to enjoy himself.

"Maybe I should get you to sign a waver or something saying you won't sue," she warned him with a self-deprecating grin as she finished setting the table, eliciting another gentle laugh.

"You can't be that bad," he argued, taking a forkful of pasta and putting it into his mouth, swallowing politely before washing it down with a gulp of his wine.

"Okay, maybe you _can_, but still, I appreciate the gesture," he teased her, his eyes twinkling with amusement, and she swatted him playfully with a dishcloth as she pretended to be hurt.

As punishment for making fun of her decidedly awful cooking, she waited until he'd endured a few more mouthfuls, before letting him off the hook. "We should just order Chinese," she told him when she couldn't hold back her laughter anymore, and dropped his fork halfway to his mouth, his relief palpable.

"I really thought you were gonna make me eat all of that," he told her as he picked up the phone, dialling the number from memory, conferring with her as he placed the order.

Once that was done, he helped her clear the plates and wash up, taking an inordinate amount of pleasure in scraping the leftovers into the trash, and then, when the food arrived, he put on a DVD and they moved to the couch.

"How is it," he asked, stroking her hair, when they'd finished eating, and she'd crept over to curl against him, "that even when I'm having a crappy day like this, I see you, and I feel like everything makes sense again?"

"I don't know," she agreed, lifting her head to look at him. "Maybe it's fate."

He answered this with a soft chuckle, bringing his palm up to cup her cheek, kissing her, and even though it didn't change the way she felt about him, she wished there were some way that she could share her memories with him, to show him that what they had was proof that it must really exist.

If she could get him to fall for her in two different times, in two different places, that had to mean something big.

As they continued to kiss, she snaked her hands up inside his t-shirt, enjoying the feel of his warm skin against her palms, and encouraged by this, he pushed her back into the cushions, dragging his lips down to her throat.

"Maybe we should take this to the bedroom," she gasped when he reached her shoulder, pulling back the strap of her tank top, but he seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was in then, sitting up, and moving off of her.

"About that," he said, clearing his throat, combing his fingers uncomfortably through his hair. "As much as I enjoyed last night, I think we need to take a step back, get to know each other before anything like that happens again…

"You understand what I'm saying, right?" he checked, losing some of his confidence, seemingly afraid that she might interpret his words the wrong way, and her heart sank as she was forced to agree to what was, _to her_, a giant leap in the wrong direction.

"Good," he said, relaxing when she nodded, settling back in to watch the end of the movie, "because I meant what I said last night. I really like you, Kate, and now that we're going to be seeing each other every day, I just don't see why we have to rush things."

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Next chapter: Kate starts her new job and she and Jack get to know each other... ;) 


	15. Chapter 15

Thanks for the reviews. As you'll see in this chapter, I'm not going to write every day for the next three years (that would be something like 900 chapters!), but I will try to do it justice. ;)

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Chapter 15. Doubt

After Jack voiced his protest over how fast things were moving, Kate forced herself to respect his wishes, allowing him to set the pace of their relationship.

To her relief, when he wasn't in surgery, they continued to see each other twice a day, but while these dates often ended with them back on his couch, or in his car in front of her motel, he always called it a night when their kisses threatened to turn into something more.

At the beginning of the week that followed their meeting, Kate started training for her new job, and even though he never stayed long, she was pleasantly surprised each time Jack found an excuse to come by and see her. It didn't take long for the women she worked with to notice, or to comment on it, but each time they asked her if there was something going on between them, she just smiled and returned to whatever she was doing, refusing to confirm or deny it. She could see that most of them were envious of her, and desperate for details, but as much as she would have liked to stake out her territory, she didn't know who Jack had told, or what he'd told them, and she didn't want to embarrass him by fuelling the office rumour mill.

She didn't realise how far it had spread, even without her encouragement, until her second week at the hospital, when she stopped by Jack's office to see if he was free for lunch.

The door was ajar, which was unusual; when she went to push it open, she heard voices, freezing when she saw that he wasn't alone. He was in the middle of what could only be an argument with an older, grey-haired man she knew worked at the hospital, his tone exasperated, reminding her of the one he'd taken with Locke on the island.

It didn't sound like something that she should be interrupting, especially when she still wasn't sure that Jack viewed them as being in a relationship; backing up, she contemplated going upstairs and waiting for him there, until the door opened, and the older man stepped out, eyeing her warily as he passed her on the way to the lift.

"Is everything okay, Jack?" she asked, tapping lightly on the doorframe when she saw him facing the window, massaging the bridge of his nose. He only did that when he was stressed. Or angry. "You were yelling. Who was that?"

"That," he told her with a sardonic laugh, and she realised that it was the latter, "was my father, the great Christian Shephard. You might've seen him around – he's the chief of surgery here."

It occurred to her then why he seemed so familiar; she'd seen him around when she came to visit Jack, but she'd never made the connection before. Which was strange, because now that she knew, she could definitely see the resemblance.

"What happened?" she pressed, wondering if now was the best time to mention that his father only had three more years to live. On the island, she'd always gotten the impression that things were left unresolved between them, and that that was why Jack had taken his death so hard. He never talked about it, though, so even if he'd asked, she couldn't have given him much more than that.

"Are you on your break? Because I was thinking we could try that café across the street if you want," he said, changing the subject as he draped his lab coat over the back of his chair, steering her out of his office, and it hit her that the reason he didn't want to talk to her about it was because the argument had been about her.

That would explain the look his father had given her, cool, almost disdainful, and the fact that, for the first time since they'd started having lunch together, he wanted to leave the hospital. For whatever reason, he didn't want his father to see them together.

"I _want_ you to tell me what that fight was about, Jack," she insisted, taking hold of his elbow to keep him from leaving, and he sighed, running his free hand over his forehead, ruffling his hair. It would have been cute, if she weren't so annoyed.

"He's seen me with you, and I guess he's heard things," he confessed, resigning himself to the fact that she wasn't going to drop it or let it go, and she felt sick, afraid that he was going to tell her what she'd long been convinced of, that she wasn't good enough for him, even without being a fugitive. "He wanted to know how we met, and when I told him, he said I should be careful, that there're a lot of women out there who would do anything to get their hands on a surgeon."

"And what did you say?" she pressed, dropping his arm, unable to believe what she was hearing. His father thought she was some kind of gold digging social climber, that she'd targeted him because he was a doctor, when that couldn't be further from the truth. That was part of it, but only because she loved him, for who he was, and what she knew he could do, even if she couldn't tell him yet.

"I told him he was paranoid," he assured her, but she could hear the doubt in his tone, and she knew that he wasn't convinced. He seemed to know that there was something she wasn't telling him, something big.

"That's really what you believe?" she whispered, her eyes prickling with tears as she fought to keep a handle on her emotions. "Because if it is, maybe you should say it like you mean it, Jack."

"Hey," he said softly when she turned away from him, putting his hands on her waist, and even though she tried to push him away, he held tight, refusing to let her walk out without giving him the chance to explain himself. "I'm sorry, Kate. That last thing I wanna do is hurt you. But a beautiful woman comes into my life – literally out of nowhere – with no explanation, and everything just _works_… You can't blame me for questioning that, can you? It all happened so fast."

Part of her wanted to go fighting with him, wounded by the implication of what he was saying; that she had an ulterior motive for forcing her way into his life; but she wasn't ready to lose him again, so shook her head, taking solace in the fact that he was only questioning it because it all seemed to good to be true.

Seemingly relieved that she wasn't going to hold this minor betrayal against him, he met her lips in a tentative kiss. "You've given me a reason to start enjoying my life, again, Kate," he told her when he pulled back, bringing his forehead to rest against hers, his eyes shining with the amazement she often saw when he looked at her, like he still couldn't believe that this wasn't a dream. "The way I feel when I'm with you… I don't wanna let something like my father's complete inability to ever just be happy for me ruin what we have, so can we just pretend it never happened?"

Burying her face in chest as he wrapped her in a penitent hug, she nodded, agreeing to let bygones be bygones, but in the back of her mind, she knew that she couldn't.

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Next chapter: Kate changes her living arrangments (but don't worry, she won't move in with Jack! I think that would defeat the purpose of taking a step back!)... ;) 


	16. Chapter 16

Thanks for the reviews. Today was insane: I almost didn't make my daily update, but after reading how much you guys appreciate it, I decided to push myself... ;)

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Chapter 16. A Guardian Angel

While Kate couldn't bring herself to dismiss what Jack had told her in his office, she found herself pushing it to the back of her mind as their relationship progressed.

As they reached the point where they were spending every moment they weren't at work, or in bed, together, he even came with her to look at apartments, helping her out with what he knew of L.A. property. More than once, the agent showing them around asked them how long they'd been together, after making a point of emphasising how safe the neighbourhood was for young families, and Kate couldn't help smiling at the assumption.

Everyone, even Jack's father, seemed to think that they were serious; even Jack, she noticed, was warming to the idea. Each day it got harder for him to distance himself from her, as he let things go further than they had the night before, and she knew that he wouldn't be able to fight it for much longer.

It was fate, after all; she was sure of that now. All she had to do was wait for him to reach the same conclusion.

That, and convince his father, who still refused to acknowledge her with anything more than a contemptuous stare whenever they met in the hall outside Jack's office.

"I know we agreed to forget that whole thing with your dad," she said to him at the end of her third week in L.A., when the real estate agent left them alone to discuss the latest in what felt like a string of a hundred apartments, all with minor differences to separate them, "but I've been thinking, and maybe we should ask him to have lunch with us one time. It's not like we can avoid him, not when we all work in the same place."

He shot her a look that told her he thought she must be certifiable, before heading over to the window to inspect the view. "He's already made up his mind, Kate – I don't know why you'd wanna subject yourself to that," he insisted, changing the subject back to the apartment, and the fact that it wasn't too far from the ocean, but she'd worked too hard to let his parents' disapproval get in the way of what she knew had to happen.

"I just don't want you to be in a situation where you're forced to choose," she argued, ignoring his attempts at being evasive, and she saw his shoulders tense at the realisation that they were talking about his father whether he wanted to or not. Already, he'd seen how stubborn she could be.

"You don't have to worry," he assured her, massaging his forehead as he resigned himself to the conversation, and she could hear the venom in his tone, "because if he backs me into that corner, I sure as hell won't be giving him what he wants."

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of," she told him, and he glanced up at her, surprised. "My mom did that – she chose her husband over me," she explained, realising that for the first time since meeting him in this timeline, she was telling him something true, something that wasn't a modified version of her life, "and it poisoned our relationship. I hated her for so long, I never thought I'd stop being angry, and even now that it's in the past, it'll never be what it was. I'll never be able to forgive her."

This contradiction of everything she'd previously told him about her family seemed to pique his interest; he returned to where she was standing, stopping in front of her. "You can't forgive her, but you still wanna save her?" he asked, his expression one of incredulity mixed with awe, and it occurred to her that she did, that what she'd told him on the pier wasn't a complete lie. If she could find a way to get her mother the treatment she needed, she would, even if she never appreciated it. "Why?"

"Because she's still my mom," she told him sadly, wishing that her mother had felt the same way before giving her up to the police. She was still her daughter; that should have earned her some immunity. "You of all people should get that," she added, and he nodded, looking thoughtful as he considered what she was saying.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is, you never know how much time you have left with someone, so it's better if you don't leave things too late," she explained, trying to load her words with as much meaning as she could without being too specific, and he seemed to realise that she wasn't speaking hypothetically about her mother's cancer anymore.

"Have you seen something at the lab?" he asked her with a sharp look, his eyes boring into hers in that way that forced her to be straight with him, and she could tell that he was rattled by her tone. "Has my father come in for some kind of test?"

When she didn't respond, unsure of how to elaborate when she didn't even how he'd died, or what had killed him, he added, growing increasingly frustrated, "I know all about confidentiality, Kate, believe me, but you're my girlfriend – that overrides whatever they had you sign when you started there."

It took her a moment to register his casual use of the term, and then she smiled to herself, loving the way it rolled off his tongue without them having to discuss it. She was his girlfriend: that meant he was committed, that he wanted to keep moving forward.

She snapped out of her pleasant reverie when she realised that he was still staring at her, waiting for some form of explanation; knowing that if she lied, it wouldn't take him long to catch her, she shook her head. If he confronted his father, he'd figure it out, and whatever trust they'd built would be lost. Again.

She couldn't take that, not when everything was going so well.

"I just don't think you should be so quick to write him off," she insisted, back peddling the conversation, but in the back of her mind, she vowed to keep an eye on Christian, in case he showed signs of a terminal illness. If he did, and she had to, she would tell Jack everything to keep him from losing his father again, but for now, she was determined to keep that information to herself. "Just talk to him, okay? Please, Jack? For me."

He held her gaze for a long moment, searching for anything that she might not be telling him, letting out an unhappy sigh before yielding. "Okay, _for you_, I'll ask him," he agreed, sliding his arms around her waist, pulling her to him, "but I can't promise you he'll accept, and I _really_ can't promise you he'll change his mind about us. He can be pretty stubborn."

"Sounds like someone else I know," she told him, looping her own arms around his neck, flashing him an impish grin as she leant back to look at him, and he laughed, tightening his grip, so that his face was almost brushing hers.

"I don't know how you do it, but you always seem to know exactly what I need," he said, his eyes warm and affectionate as he held her, swaying slightly, almost as if they were slow dancing without any music, and she knew that he was falling for her, because she was falling for him too. "Sometimes, I feel like you know me better than I know myself."

"I guess that makes me your guardian angel," she teased him, eliciting another low chuckle, and as their lips met in a slow, delicate kiss, she realised that in this reality, that wasn't far from the truth.

* * *

Next chapter: Christian... ;) 


	17. Chapter 17

Thanks for the reviews. I forgot to mention last time that Diane was going to be in this chapter too. ;)

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Chapter 17. Daddy Issues

Kate decided that she liked the apartment; and the view; after all, so, after a making a few adjustments in her head to make sure she could keep on top of the rent, she signed the lease, and Jack dropped her off at the motel on his way back to the hospital for his evening shift.

She could tell that he didn't want to go, because he turned the engine off, keeping the conversation going for as long as possible without making himself late, before pulling her in for a lengthy goodnight kiss.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said finally, turning the key in the ignition, and she got out, pausing to wave him off as she crossed the parking lot.

Letting herself into her room, she took a shower and changed into a t-shirt and sweatpants, switching on the TV, but she was finding it increasingly harder to relax when he wasn't around. Some part of her was still afraid that if she let him get away from her, even for a moment, she would lose him again; that the next thing she knew, someone from the hospital would be calling to tell her that he'd been in an accident, or that he'd been shot trying to save a stranger during a mugging.

It seemed like it was always one or the other; Jack or Sawyer; and this time, she knew, it couldn't be the latter, because her appearance in this timeline was yet to affect him. As far as she knew, he was still off somewhere, doing whatever he did before the crash, and would be, for another three years.

Flashing back to her conversation with Jack, about never knowing how much time you had left with the people you loved, she began to feel guilty about leaving things with her mother like that; taking the phone from the nightstand, she dialled her old number, praying that Wayne wouldn't be the one to pick up.

"Hi, Mom, it's me," she said, breathing a sigh of relief when her mother answered with a distant, "Hello?"

"Katherine? Where are you? Is everything okay?" she asked, perking up at the sound of her daughter's voice.

"Yeah, Mom, I'm in L.A., like I told you," she explained, no longer sure that she wanted to have his conversation, but some part of her still felt like she needed to talk to her, to make peace with what had happened, before it was too late.

Wasn't that what she'd been encouraging Jack to do?

"How is it down there? Sunny? Y'know with all those damn freckles, you better make sure you cover up – you must be red as anything by now. Why you wanted to run off to L.A…" her mother trailed off with a sigh, and Kate couldn't help smiling at this small sign of affection.

They were always at war; while her mother's pride would never let her come out and say that she loved her, or that she missed her and wanted her to come home, it was nice to know that on some level, she still cared. Even if she didn't know how to express it.

"I'm fine, Mom – I haven't had time to go to the beach," she assured her, filling her in on her job and Jack and the course she was doing, and all of the others things that had kept her busy since arriving in California.

"Sounds like you've made yourself a good life there," her mother said with a hint of bitterness when she finished.

"I have," she agreed, grinning at how well everything had worked out this time. For the first time since learning that Wayne was her father, she was proud of herself, and she wanted her mother to be too. "You can come down and see it for yourself if you want – meet Jack," she offered, hoping that this would give them a chance to work through their issues alone. "I've been saving some money, so I can send you a ticket if that's a problem."

There was a long pause as her mother considered this, and then her mother said, her tone clipped, "I take it Wayne's not invited?"

The smile faded from Kate's lips as the wall shot back up between them, and it hit her that no matter where she was, no matter what she did, or didn't do, it would always be that way. She would always put that monster first. Until it killed her. "What do _you_ think?"

More than a thousand miles away, her mother sighed, and Kate could hear her defeat as said, "Then my answer is no, Katherine. I can't leave him alone – you know how he is."

"Yeah, I do," she agreed, wanting to hurt her mother as badly as she'd hurt her. She wasn't going to invite him back into her life so that she could play happy familles. They'd been doing that for twenty years, and she was tired of it. It wasn't fair. "I know _exactly_ how he is – that's why I came here. To get away from him."

"Goodnight, Katherine," her mother said, the coldness returning to her voice. And with that, she hung up.

* * *

When Kate walked into the lab the next morning, Jack was loitering at the reception desk, waiting for her.

"I talked to my father last night, and he agreed to meet you," he said, after greeting her with a kiss that assured her he'd missed her; almost as much as she'd missed him; during their long hours apart. "We're having lunch with him at restaurant downtown at one."

He stayed with her longer than he should have, taking his time collecting the biopsy results he'd come down for, before leaving her with another kiss, and a gentle assurance that she should relax.

She tried to take his words to heart, but by the time he returned to pick her up, just before one, she felt like she was going to be sick, knowing that his parents' opposition could make life very difficult for her in this timeline. If they didn't trust her, then some small part of Jack would always doubt her too, even if it wasn't enough for him to stop seeing her.

His father arrived first, and was sitting at their table, drinking a glass of scotch, when Jack introduced her, regarding her with a penetrating stare as she took a seat opposite him, Jack beside her. As he waited for them to finish looking at the menu, watching her, tight-lipped, Kate wanted to shrink under the tablecloth and hide, but she forced herself to smile at him, meeting his eyes.

"So, Kate," he said finally, once the waitress had taken their orders to the kitchen, and brought him another drink, "Jack tells me you're from Iowa – do you still have family there?"

"My mother lives there," she agreed, refusing to acknowledge Wayne; as far as she was concerned, her father lived and worked in Washington. "My dad's an army Sergeant, so he moves around a lot."

He met this with a respectful nod, and she was filled with despair, once again, at the realisation that the only person in her family that she could be proud of wasn't really related to her. But she pushed these feelings aside, bracing herself for the next question as he asked, "Did you go to school there?"

It was then that she knew this wasn't a conversation, it was an interrogation, an ambush; she felt Jack reach for her hand, squeezing it under the table as she explained, drawing strength from him, since he was the reason she was doing this, after all, "All twelve grades. Straight As. I was this close to being valedictorian." Letting go of Jack, she brought her finger and thumb together, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back in her chair, giving off a confidence she didn't feel.

If she could stand up to Pickett, and Ben, Christian Shephard should be easy. He wasn't going to kill her, after all.

"But you didn't go to college," he pointed out, his eyes sparkling with what might have been amusement, and she had no idea whether or not to take this as a good sign. If he was laughing at her, it probably wasn't.

"No, I didn't," she confessed, "but I'm going now."

This back and forth was getting them nowhere; taking a deep, steadying breath, she decided to put an end to the game by laying her cards on the table. "With all due respect, Dr. Shephard," she began, straightening, and meeting his stare, and out of the corner of her eye, she could see Jack tensing, concerned about where this was going, "we both know why you don't like me, and it has nothing to do with whether or not I went to college.

"You have every reason not to trust me, but I want you to know we have one thing in common – we both want the same thing. I have a job and an apartment – I have no interest in your son's money, or _yours_. I just want Jack to be happy, like you, so for as long as I think I can do that for him, I'll be in his life – and yours."

Closing her mouth at the end of her tirade; realising what she'd done; she felt like she couldn't breathe, almost hyperventilating at the stunned looks both Jack and his father were giving her. She wasn't sure who she was channelling, or what had prompted her to be so bold, but as soon as the words left her mouth, she wished she'd kept it shut. He must hate her now.

That was, until Christian laughed.

"I like this girl, Jack," he said with an appraising nod, and she found herself relaxing, beaming at him. It seemed like this was the right approach; he was clearly a man who valued honesty, even if he couldn't come out and confront her himself. Maybe even _because_ he couldn't. "It's not often I meet a woman with the courage to stand up to me – I have to say, I probably deserved it too. I really put you through the wringer," he added with what was as close to an apology as she knew she was likely to get.

He clapped Jack on the shoulder, smiling at him, and she could see that he was just as relieved, "But you have to understand, I was just looking out for my boy."

* * *

Next chapter: It's been a while since there's been any pure fluff, so_ fluff_, maybe as Jack helps Kate move into her new apartment... ;) 


	18. Chapter 18

Thanks for the reviews. I loved Kate in that chapter too -- that's how I wish she would be all the time! (Actually, the way I write her is the way I wish she would be all the time. The writers have no idea! "Likes to run" -- bhah!)

And Diane is indeed a horrible mother, and a selfish bitch to boot! (More on that later...)

For those of you who are worried, when Christian says he "likes" Kate, I just mean he approves. Did you see the look on his face with Jack accused him of sleeping Sarah? The idea that his own son would think him capable of that seemed to horrify him.

As promised, here is the ultimate fluff chapter, with more to come. ;)

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Chapter 18. Time

"Remind me again why I'm doing this?" Jack said, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand as he and Kate deposited the couch they were carrying outside her new apartment. "Why we couldn't've just hired someone?"

It was Saturday, and after borrowing a trailer from one of the nurses, he was helping her move in, lugging the Goodwill furniture she'd bought up the five flights of stairs to her floor. He'd done most of the heavy lifting so far, and she had to admit, she was enjoying the view; watching his muscles strain as he picked up a table, or a shelving unit, reminded her of all the times she'd checked him out on the island, and it was all she could do to keep from jumping him right there in the hallway. Not that she thought he would mind.

"You're doing it because I'm your girlfriend," she reminded him as she opened the door for him, figuring that it was okay to use the word now that he had, and he smiled, " and this is the kind of thing guys do for their girlfriends.

"And we didn't hire someone because that would've been a waste of money when I have such a strapping young doctor at my disposal."

He perked up at the compliment, trying to look modest, and she knew that he couldn't argue with her logic there, laughing when she added, "Besides, I braved the great Christian Shephard for you – the least you can do is help me move my couch."

"I still can't believe you spoke to him like that," he said as he turned the couch on its side, pushing it through the doorway, and for one horrible moment, she was afraid that it wasn't going to fit. But he gave it a hard shove, and it skidded through, almost causing him to fall flat on his face in the process. "If I didn't think you were crazy before…"

"You think I'm crazy?" she asked, unsure of whether or not this was a good thing under the circumstances, taking his arm to help him steady himself in spite of the fact that he seemed to have it covered.

"Just a little," he agreed with the kind of smile that always made her melt: warm and affectionate, "but that's okay – it keeps things interesting."

At this reminder of her mission, she found herself growing serious again. "Does he always drink that much – your father?" she asked. The fact that his father couldn't seem to go more than five minutes without a refill was something she couldn't help noticing: she was no stranger to alcoholic behaviour. "He must've had at least five glasses of scotch during lunch – in the middle of a work day."

Following the couch through into her apartment, he tried to sound casual as he said, "You noticed that too, huh?" but she could tell that it didn't sit well with him either.

"Don't you think you should say something to him about it?" she pressed, concerned that if it was a regular occurrence, it might have something to do with his impending death, but Jack just shook his head.

"What good would it do?" he asked, sounding defeated, avoiding her eyes as he dragged the couch into the living room. "He'll tell me I don't understand the pressure he's under, that he needs it to relax, and make me feel like I'm doing something wrong by mentioning it. Then he'll just pour himself another drink, and that'll be the end of it. He's been that way for as long as I can remember."

He stopped, standing up, and gesturing around the room. "Where do you want this?" he asked, making no secret of the fact that he was changing the subject, "Keeping in mind that once it's down, it's down," and she knew that that conversation was over. She would have to find another way to help his father.

"Over there," she told him, pointing to a spot against the wall, and he followed her instructions, flopping back onto it with a sigh once it was in place.

"Actually, I think it'd go better facing the window," she teased him when it looked like he was getting too comfortable, and he responded by pulling her into his lap, causing her to let out a startled shriek and burst into laughter.

"Really? Because I think I like it here," he said as he kissed her, forcing her to bring the leg closest to him around to straddle him, so that she wasn't twisting her neck.

Holding onto him for support, sinking into his chest as he brought her closer, so that their bodies brushed against each other with each movement they made, she returned his kisses for a few minutes before shifting out of his arms.

"We better get back to work," she told him after one last, indulgent, kiss, moving to slide off his lap, but rather than let her go, he murmured, "We're taking a break," weaving his fingers through the curls on the back of her head as he drew her back in.

"With all that stuff still in the trailer?" she asked him when they broke for air, amused by this dominant side of him. It made her feel more wanted than she ever had in her life, like she was the only woman on earth, in his eyes, at least. "Someone'll take it."

"So I'll buy you new furniture," he told her as their lips crashed together again, and they continued to lose themselves in each other, until she braced a hand against his chest, separating them.

"We can pick this up later," she said, climbing off him reluctantly, offering him her hand to help him back up, wishing that she hadn't when he took it, and she could feel the electricity still passing between them. She didn't even have a bed for him to take her to. "Come on, let's go."

* * *

It was several hours before they had everything upstairs, and arranged in a way that Kate was satisfied with, Jack having dutifully moved the couch twice before she decided she was happy with it. 

In the end, they'd decided to put it facing the window behind the TV, just like she'd joked; as they sat there together later that evening, enjoying the view, letting the cool ocean breeze wash over them, Kate felt the strangest sense of déjà vu. It was just like old times, only at some point during the month they'd spent together, she'd stopped wishing that they were back on the island, and now, it was that life that felt unreal, like a distant dream.

"Can I tell you a secret?" he asked, stroking her hair as she lay against him, serious in spite of the lightness of his words, and she nodded, knowing instinctively what he was going to say. "I really don't wanna go home tonight."

"Can I tell you one too?" she turned to whisper in his ear, and she felt him shiver against her as she added, "I don't want you to leave either."

He lifted his head from the back of the couch, searching her expression, before answering with a slight nod, to show her that not only did he understand, but that he wasn't going to put up a resistance this time.

For the first time since that night on the pier, it seemed like they were on the same page.

"You know what? I think you're right. Maybe _it is_ time we took this to the bedroom," he agreed, echoing her words with a soft smile, and she seconded this by wrapping her arms around his neck, kissing him deeply as he lifted her up off the couch, carrying her to her bed.

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Next chapter: The morning after Take Two (I may include some sort of flashback to the night before as well)... ;) 


	19. Chapter 19

Thanks for the reviews. Why is it that interest always goes down after the more light-hearted chapters? Is it because people don't like them, or is it just that they have nothing to comment on?

As promised a while ago, here is the fluffy morning after chapter... ;)

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Chapter 19. Effortless

That night when they made love, it was with none of the desperation of the first time, when they'd both needed to connect, for different reasons. With every unhurried touch of his hand, every caress of his lips against her skin, Kate knew that Jack was with her, not just in body, but in mind and soul, communicating to her how much she'd come to mean to him, how much he wanted to make her his.

It was so perfect, so much like every dream she'd ever had of him, that she wanted to cry, swallowing against the lump in her throat when, in the stillness that followed, he brushed his lips against her ear, whispering that he loved her.

She'd waited so long for this moment, for the chance to tell him how she felt, that she almost couldn't find the words to respond; knowing that the truth would overwhelm him, she settled for a simple, "I love you too," before he sealed their declarations with a kiss.

She stayed awake for a long time after he was asleep, clinging to him as she watched his chest rise and fall in the moonlight, afraid that if she closed her eyes, even for a moment, she would wake up back on the island. She'd lost him twice already, buried him; knelt over his broken body stained with his blood, but somehow, she knew that it if he was taken from her again, it would be worse this time.

She wasn't sure when it happened, but she finally gave in some time in the early hours of the morning, her body and mind aching with exhaustion, stirring to find Jack propped up on one elbow beside her, studying her sleeping form.

"You're still here," she murmured when she saw that the sun was streaming through the curtains, realising that this statement had different meanings for each of them when he reached over to tuck a stray curl behind her ear.

"Where else would I be?" he said softly, bringing her in for a long, tender kiss, before adding, "I really am sorry about last time. I shouldn't have left you like that."

"Why did you?" she asked, curious now that he'd brought it up. They'd made a silent pact not to mention it after the night it happened, both determined to start over, but now, the lingering sense of guilt he seemed to feel made her wonder if there wasn't more to it than a page from the hospital.

"I guess I was scared," he confessed, and seeing the shame in his eyes, she scooted over to him, wrapping her arms around him, to show him that as painful as it had been at the time, she was over it now. He'd stayed with her this time, and that was all that mattered.

"I've never felt this way before – like I knew, even after one night, that I could never be with another woman without thinking of you," he explained, stroking the bare skin of her back, his touch delicate and precise, just like she'd always imagined it to be. What was it that they said about surgeon's hands? "Until I met you, I don't think I was ever in love. I thought I was, but now, with you, it's completely different – effortless."

"I know exactly what you mean," she agreed, lifting her head to kiss him, letting him roll her onto her back as they made love again, slowly and reverently this time, with an aching sweetness, until they were both too exhausted to continue.

"What do you wanna do today?" he asked her as they lay tangled up in the sheets afterwards, and she regarded him with a languid smile. "This."

Closing her eyes, burrowing deeper into his chest, feeling like she was finally home, she added, "In fact, I think this is what I wanna do for the rest of my life."

He let out a soft chuckle, adjusting to her movements. "As perfect as that sounds," he told her, combing his fingers through her hair, "we're gonna have to get up to eat eventually, so, since you already cooked for me, how about I make you breakfast?"

"Can you bring it here?" she mumbled as she drifted back into a contented sleep in his arms, making an unhappy sound when he extricated himself from her, shifting her head from the warmth of his body, to her cold pillow.

"If that's what you want," he agreed, pressing his lips to her forehead, and she heard him fumble around for his jeans, before his footsteps receded out of the bedroom.

A while later, she felt the mattress creak as he returned, brushing her cheek lightly with his knuckles. "Time to wake up Sleeping Beauty," he told her when she pretended not to know he was there, tracing the curve of her jaw with his fingers, laughing when she groaned her disapproval.

He continued to provoke her until she opened her eyes, sitting up against the headboard with the covers drawn to her chest, and, as he handed her a paper bag, she saw that he was fully dressed, down to his shoes. "Turns out I can't cook either," he confessed with a sheepish grin, "so I went to the bakery across the street and brought you back some bagels – and coffee."

She took the Styrofoam cup he offered her, sipping it gratefully as he stripped down to his boxers and climbed back into bed with her, spreading the contents of the bag out in front of them.

"Anything here look good?" he asked, reaching for a bagel, and she couldn't resist teasing him by answering, "You," snatching it out of his hand, and returning it to the pile as she slid her arms around him, drawing him into a passionate kiss.

"I thought you were tired?" he said, cocking an eyebrow at her when they broke for air, but this didn't stop him from kissing her again.

"I thought you were hungry?" she returned, laughing, when he pushed the food aside, and laid her back down.

"I am."

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Next chapter: Kate learns another lesson about changing the timeline the hard way, as someone else close to her dies... ;) 


	20. Chapter 20

Thanks for the reviews. They made me smile as much as it sounds like the last chapter made you all smile. ;)

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Chapter 20. Where Is She? 

After heading back to his apartment for a change of clothes, Jack spent Sunday night at Kate's place as well, and this time, when he left her asleep to go to the hospital, she found that it didn't bother her as much, because she knew he'd be back. He couldn't seem to stay away from her for long, or her from him, alternating between the two apartments so that wherever they were, they wouldn't have to sleep alone.

They were driving back to his place on Friday, after stopping to pick up a pizza, when he said, reminding her of something she'd tried to push out of her head since that disastrous night on the phone, "I spoke to Dr. Richards this afternoon – you know, the oncologist? You've probably seen him around the lab – and he agreed to do a consult for you mom if you still wanna look at her treatment options."

She knew that he'd only brought it up because he wanted to help her, after she'd been so supportive of him through the issues he was having with his dad, and because he'd made her a promise, but she stiffened at his words, her mood darkening as she stared out the window, wishing that she wasn't trapped in a car with him, with no means of avoiding the conversation.

When she appeared to ignore him, he glanced over at her, taking one hand from the steering wheel to rub her shoulder through the thin material of her blouse. "Hey, I know you've been having some problems, but she's still your mom – I'm sure if you talked to her away from Wayne, the two of you could reach some kind of understanding. My dad and I did."

She couldn't deny the fact that what he was saying made sense, and if they were talking about anyone else, she might have agreed with him, but all the heart to hearts in the world weren't going to change her relationship with her mother. The only way it would was if Wayne finally drank himself to death, and they were still waiting on that. He was like a cockroach; she was pretty sure that, without her interference, he'd outlive them all just to spite her.

"The last time I talked to her, she hung up on me because I made it clear that he wasn't welcome here," she confessed, the bitterness in her tone evident, even to her, and his expression softened with sympathy.

"All you can do is keep trying," he told her, giving her shoulders a quick, one-armed squeeze before he went back to driving. "But you know I'm here you, right? Anything you need."

She gave him a grateful smile, pushing all thoughts of home aside, determined to enjoy their evening together, but her mother and Wayne kept forcing their way back in, distracting her from him, until he went to take a shower, and she found herself picking up the phone, punching in the familiar number.

There was no answer, but it wasn't uncommon for her mother to get held up at the diner until all hours on Fridays, so, hanging up, she went to the bathroom in search of Jack, and something to make her feel less unsettled.

She spent the night with him as she had every one that week, soothed by his presence, warm and familiar by now, like a well-worn quilt, feeling almost relaxed by the time he dropped her off at her own building on the way to his next shift.

She was supposed to be using the time away from him to catch up one coursework, but even when her books were spread out on the kitchen table in front of her, she couldn't focus, an inexplicable sense of foreboding settling into her stomach. Her rational mind told her that she was being dramatic, refusing to trust her happiness after everything that had happened on her last few trips, but, remembering that it was the same feeling she'd had while waiting for Jack and Sawyer to come back from their rendezvous with the Others, she decided that Jack was right: she had to keep trying. She had to get her mother well and out that house. Then everything _would_ be perfect.

Taking a break after realising that she'd been staring at the same page for fifteen minutes, without progress, she tried her mother's number again, but like the previous night, no one picked up. It was seven thirty on a Saturday morning; Wayne should be home from the bar by now, sleeping it off, but if he was, the shrill of the phone didn't seem to disturb him as he let it ring out.

She waited an hour and tried again, still with no answer, her uneasiness turning to full-blown panic as she called the diner, hoping to catch her mother at work. At the very least, she thought one of the other waitresses would be able to tell her if he'd put her in the hospital again, with another broken wrist, or, God-forbid, something worse.

This time, her patience was rewarded when a tired, female voice announced, "Keith's diner, Sandi speaking."

She almost smiled at the name, realising that she was speaking to someone she hadn't seen or thought about in years; at roughly the same age as her mother, Sandi had been at the diner for as long as Kate could remember. She'd even babysat her a few times when she was little, and helped her with her homework after school.

"Hi, it's Kate – _Katie _– Austen," she greeted her, realising that she might not make the association when she'd always called her by her childhood name. "Is my mom working today?"

The relief she felt on gaining entry to her mother's life left her when Sandi let out a long, unhappy sigh. "I was hoping you'd call, or else I had no idea how I was gonna find you – your mom said something about you moving interstate?"

She seemed to be avoiding the question, making Kate's insides clench with fear. She didn't want to make small talk, even with the woman who'd been more a mother to her than her own mother, she just wanted to hear Diane's voice, to know that she was still mad at her, but otherwise okay.

That her worst fear hadn't been realised.

"Where is she?" she demanded, her voice rising shrilly, fighting back tears at what she knew was coming. Since moving to L.A., she'd been so focused on Jack, and building a life with him, that she hadn't been looking out for her. She'd allowed _him_ to live, to keep hurting her, and now… "She's not answering her phone, she's not on shift or you would've called her… _where is she_?"

There was a long, uncomfortable pause, and Kate could almost hear Sandi's heart breaking for her as she said, as gently as she could, "I'm so sorry, honey, but your mom's gone. She died a couple of days ago. We've been trying to get in touch with you ever since."

* * *

Next chapter: Kate learns all the details from someone familiar, and Jack comforts her... ;) 


	21. Chapter 21

Thanks for the reviews. Hopefully this chapter will provide you with some answers (although not about the hair, which has not been cut yet sadly!). In this fic, as in most of my fics, I'm working off the assumption that Diane was on her death bed when Kate visited her in hospital in canon, and died not long after. ;)

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Chapter 21. Everything Will Be Different In The Morning 

"What do you mean _she's gone_?" Kate cried, no longer able to hold back her emotions as that old nightmarish feeling returned. She knew it wasn't the cancer; that wasn't supposed to kill her yet. The last time she saw her, she wasn't even sick. "What did that bastard do to her?"

She heard Sandi sigh again on the other end of the line, reluctant to get involved in something her mother had always made clear was none of her business. "I don't know, Katie," she said after a moment, giving up all pretence of not understanding who or what she was talking about. "The cops wouldn't tell us much, but whatever it was, I don't think he meant for it to happen."

So the cops were involved. That meant someone thought it looked suspicious. "Of course not. All those times he broke her nose, or her jaw – those were just accidents," she spat, still reeling from the news.

Her mother was dead.

After losing her once, she should have been prepared for it, but this was completely different: unnatural. Wrong.

"Why don't you sit tight, and I'll get someone to explain it to you?" Sandi said, clearing her throat, and she could tell that she just wanted to get off the phone.

Angry and needing someone to take it out on, Kate hung up without saying goodbye, pacing aimlessly around her kitchen in what could only be described as a state of shock, feeling helpless, and resenting the distance for the first time since setting foot in L.A.

She wanted to kill him. Again. She wanted him to suffer for what he'd done. Blowing him up had been too merciful. This time, she wanted blood.

When the phone rang, she pounced on it, hungry for information, answering it on the first ring. "Sandi?"

But the voice that greeted her was unmistakably male; she was so out of it that she almost didn't recognise it at first, until she registered the familiar nickname. There were only a handful of people who called her that, all from her old town. "Katie?"

"Tom?"

If she hadn't lost count of the number of dead people she'd spoken to since the night Desmond pulled her out of the water, she might've been stunned, but as it was, she was too distracted to care as much as she knew that she should. It was seemed so far away now; even the pain of his death had been muted by all those she'd seen and been responsible since. She felt numb.

"How are you?" he asked, sounding uncomfortable, and she could tell that was nervous, almost as if he were afraid that she wouldn't want to speak to him. He'd abandoned her for college, and Rachel, after all. She couldn't be expected to roll out the welcome mat, especially at a time like this. "Sandi told me to call you. She said you were asking what happened."

She was too stupid to answer, nodding before she realised that he couldn't see her. "Was it him?" she amended, the words coming out at barely above a whisper, dreading the answer.

"I'm sorry, Katie," he said, his tone filled with a deep sadness, and genuine remorse, and with sickening clarity, she knew that she had her answer. It was all her fault. "As far as anyone can tell, it was an accident – she must've hit her head when she fell. I don't think she suffered. She was gone by the time they found her."

It was the second time someone had used that phrase to describe what had happened, as if her mother had just ducked out to the store, or decided to take a vacation, and not been murdered by the man she loved; the man who was supposed to love her back, the way she knew her father had.

"And Wayne?" she asked, filled with loathing at the name. At the very least, she wanted to know that he was in a dank holding cell somewhere, awaiting what she prayed would be a life sentence.

Any hope of justice she felt left her when Tom took his time answering. "No one can find him," he admitted, seeming to decide that there was no easy way to say it. "We think he skipped town when he saw what he did. I wish I could tell you more, but…"

He cleared his throat, still fumbling for something reassuring to say. "If it's any consolation, when they did the autopsy, they found a tumour on her brain – the coroner seems to think it might've been a contributing factor. Either way, it was inoperable – she only had a year left at most…" he trailed off, and even though Sandi had meant for his call to be a comfort to her, knowing how close they'd been growing up, he was no longer familiar to her; she felt more alone than she had before they'd spoken as it occurred to her that he was no longer part of her world.

During one of the worst days of her life, it wasn't the safety of his arms she wanted to run to.

She waited until he was finished, letting him think that he'd helped her, before thanking him, and calling the hospital, forcing herself to hold herself together as one of the nurses patched her through to Jack's office.

"Jack?" she choked out when he answered, letting out a muffled sob as he asked, in that gentle, concerned tone she loved so much, "Kate? Are you okay? Did something happen?"

"She's gone, Jack," she told him, realising, suddenly, why it had been so hard for everyone to formulate the word. It sounded so real, so final. "He killed her."

"Who's gone, Kate? What're you talking about?" he pressed with as much tact and patience as he could, but she could hear the panic in his voice as he struggled to interpret her cryptic words. She could see him running down a mental list of people they knew, people she'd mentioned, trying to figure out who "she" was.

"She… my mom," was all she could bring herself to add as she dissolved into tears, burying her face in her hands as she slid down the cabinets to the kitchen floor.

She hated feeling this way, like nothing would ever work out, like she could never win. She couldn't choose again, not when saving her mother meant giving up Jack.

"Are you at home?" he checked, adding, when she didn't respond, "Just stay there, and I'll be right over, okay?" hanging up without saying goodbye.

Ten minutes later, the door to her apartment burst open, and he came rushing in, dropping a bag on the counter as he coaxed her to her feet, pulling her into a fierce hug.

"What happened, Kate?" he asked again, more forcefully this time, when the suspense became too much, cupping her face in his hands, and lifting it from his chest so that he could read her expression. "You said something about your mom – did Wayne do something to her?"

"He killed her," she repeated, and this time his eyes darkened with comprehension.

"They said she hit her head, but it's all wrong – it wasn't supposed to happen like this. It was supposed to be the cancer," she tried to explain, but he just whispered, "I know, it's okay, I know," and held her tighter, gripping her so hard that if she wasn't already choking on her tears, she wasn't sure she'd be able to breathe.

"No, you don't," she argued, but she couldn't seem to make him understand. "It's _my _fault. I wasn't supposed to come here – I was only supposed to stop the crash."

Her words slurred together as she grew increasingly desperate in her frustration, tumbling out before she had time to filter what she was saying, and when he met her eyes again, it was with the same mixture of confusion, fear and pity that she'd seen as they stood by Sawyer's grave.

Releasing her, he went over to his bag, taking out a small plastic prescription container. "You're not making a lot of sense, Kate," he said gently, filling a glass of water, and handing it to her, along with some of the pills. "I want you to take a couple of these – they'll help you calm down, then, when you wake up, and you're lucid again, we can talk about what happened. I'll even take you home, if that's what you need."

She knew that he was only trying to do what he thought was right by her, but she couldn't help the outrage she felt at the implication that she was having some kind of grief-induced breakdown. It was exactly the way he'd behaved with Claire, trying to drug her rather than accept that what she was telling him might be true, only there was no point in trying to remind him of that when he already thought she was losing her mind.

"What I _need_ is for you to listen to me," she told him, dumping the pills into the sink, along with the contents of the glass. "I'm not crazy, Jack."

"I know," he agreed, sounding so reasonable that a part of her wondered if she really was, "but you're in shock, and you're not thinking straight. I just wanna give you something to take the edge off. Then, when you're feeling better, you can tell me what you wanna do."

He gave her a reassuring smile, emptying two more pills into his hand, but she knew that he didn't really believe it when he said, "I promise, everything will be different in the morning."

Deciding that he was right about one thing: she needed to relax, so that she could focus on what she had to do, what she should have done from the beginning, she accepted the pills this time, downing them along with the water he offered her. She couldn't keep playing with people's lives just so that she could have what she wanted; what she wasn't even sure she deserved. That wasn't the way it worked.

He guided her to the couch as they began to take effect, helping her to lie down as a wave of drowsiness washed over her, and she almost lost consciousness, fighting to keep her eyes open. She wanted one last glimpse of him, so that she could remember how it felt to be with him, to have him look at her that way, before she said goodbye to him, and this life, maybe forever.

"I'm sorry, Jack," she whispered when he eased her head onto the cushion, smoothing the hair back from her face, and her eyelids drooped shut, too heavy for her to lift this time. "I wish I could take you with me." Then she let herself go, into the oblivion of sleep, knowing that everything really would be different in the morning.

* * *

Next chapter: New timeline. But where is Kate going? (Hint: it's not to prevent Diane's death, which would have happened regardless) And will she see Jack there?... ;) 


	22. Chapter 22

Thanks for the reviews. I knew you'd all disappointed, but she couldn't stay there forever!

For anyone who was confused, she left because she realised it was wrong to risk changing the future just so that she could live out her fantasies. By staying in that timeline longer than usual, she was causing too many ripples, altering the course not just of her own life, but the people around her. So she had to move on, to return to her original objective, which was to stop herself from becoming a fugitive (which she didn't really need to do either -- she just had to avoid Ray Mullen's farm!), then skip ahead to the crash, to save the others survivors. She got selfish with her "power", and her mother paid the price. Obviously she didn't want to take that chance again, especially with Jack.

But don't worry, it's not the end. In fact...

* * *

Chapter 22. One Week

When Kate woke this time, she was still in the real world, the first rays of dawn filtering in through the curtains, lighting on an unfamiliar bedroom.

Struggling to sit up, she found that she couldn't, her whole body feeling heavier than it had before she went to sleep; her first thought was that it was the sedatives Jack had given her, until she pushed the blankets aside, and saw what had changed.

She was pregnant. _Really_ pregnant.

Bringing a hand up to prod her swollen stomach tentatively, she could feel something moving, under the skin, the baby; _her_ baby; the idea filling her with warmth and excitement, even though she had no idea where it had come from, or how she felt about it in this timeline. It was the one thing she'd thought that she would never have, that she _could_ never have, and yet, here it was, a reality.

She was still trying to process this unexpected development, wondering how she was going to get out of bed when she felt like a beached whale, when she heard the rustle of sheets beside her, and she jumped, startled, until she recognised the voice that greeted her.

"Baby keeping you awake again?"

_I'm sorry, Jack. I wish I could take you with me._

Remembering the last words she'd said to him, she almost laughed, shifting her gaze to see him waking up beside her, watching her with a soft smile, his hair shorter now, looking almost exactly as she remembered him on the island, except that his arm was still bare. His tattoos were still notably absent; it hit her at once that just like before, when she'd returned to the present to find Sawyer still dead, she must be in the same timeline, only it had moved forward without her, in ways that she could never have imagined.

When she gave him a vague nod, too overwhelmed to formulate a proper answer, he grinned, propping himself up on one elbow as he used his free hand to lift up her pyjama top, setting his palm against the exposed skin.

As always, his touch made her heart quicken, and she tried not to shiver at the contact.

"Hey. I know there's not a lot for you to do in there," he said, and with a smile, she realised that he was talking to the baby, _their_ baby, "but you need to settle down and let Mommy get some rest, okay? She's exhausted from carrying you around all day."

She wasn't sure whether it was the sound of his voice, or the words themselves, but something about what he was doing made the baby stop fidgeting, falling still, almost as if it had gone to sleep. When a moment passed without any renewal of its activity, she found that she missed its soft kicks, even if her insides didn't. It was a strange feeling.

"What do you know?" Jack said with a laugh, pressing a soft kiss to her bellybutton before replacing her shirt. "She actually listened."

"It's a girl?" Kate couldn't help asking as she beamed at him, awed by this glimpse into their future. She and Jack were still together, and she was having his baby; if the ring on her left hand was any indication, it might even be the first of many.

That was, if they didn't have others.

The bedroom door was ajar; listening for the sounds of cartoons, or childish voices, her ears were met with silence, and she returned to her previous thought. They were first time parents, which only made the whole thing more perfect.

"I don't know, Kate – you're the one who keeps telling me that," Jack said, snapping her out of her pleasant daydream, his confusion touched with concern as he ran the backs of his fingers over her forehead, then down along her cheek. "Are you okay? You seem like you're somewhere else this morning."

How could see tell him that just moments before, she had been? "I'm just tired," she agreed, to save another scene like the one in her apartment; in truth, she couldn't remember the last time she'd felt this lousy on waking. Everything ached, and she couldn't seem to get comfortable, no matter how many times she adjusted her position.

"I know you don't wanna hear it, but after what happened last time, maybe you should think about taking a couple of days off work, or going on maternity leave early," he suggested, stroking her jaw tenderly with his thumb before returning his hand to the mattress. "You're pushing yourself too hard – it's not good for the baby. She's only restless because you are."

"I'm fine," she assured him, guessing from his tone that they'd had this conversation before, many times, presumably since whatever had happened to make him so protective of her.

Was there something wrong with the baby? she wondered, a surge of panic rising inside her as her maternal instincts kicked in, in spite of how sudden it all was; it was still her baby, even if she didn't know much about it. Or was he talking about something else, _someone _else?

"I'm _fine_," she repeated when, seeming to sense her alarm, he gave her a dubious look, and she could tell that he didn't believe her. Even after a month of dating her, he'd known her well enough to realise when something was bothering her; he just didn't have enough information to figure out what.

They'd clearly been together longer than that now, though she had no idea _how much_ longer. They hadn't always been as careful as they should have, especially the first few times; it could be anywhere from six months to several years on from the day her mother died, Jack's hints that she'd been pregnant before making it seem more like the latter.

Finally managing to prop herself up against the headboard, she reached for the remote on the dresser, trying to figure out where, or more specifically, _when_, she had landed. There was a news story on the TV about a car bomb in Bagdad, followed by one about a Japanese volcano; none of it told her anything conclusive, so with a frustrated sigh, she clicked it back off.

"What's the date today?" she asked Jack, changing the subject, before he could ask her any more questions about how she was, or what she was doing. She was starting to feel smothered by his concern, which was touching, but also just a little annoying. Was he like this all the time? Or was it just because he'd sensed the change in her?

"The fifteenth," he told her, not seeming to find anything strange in this until she added, "Of?"

"September."

A week before the crash. It couldn't a coincidence. Not when she still needed to stop it.

"Kate—"

"2004, right?" she checked, cutting him off, knowing that there was no way she could make this question sound reasonable, but she was too impatient to search out a calendar. She didn't have much time to come up with a plan, and as far as she could tell, she wasn't even in the right country. The newsreader on the TV had been American.

"Right," he agreed, sitting up, giving her a strange look, just like she'd anticipated. He'd once joked that he thought she was crazy, but it didn't seem so amusing or endearing anymore, not when she was afraid he was really starting to believe it.

As much as she hated to admit it, she knew he was going to be more hindrance than help this time, especially now that he has a good reason to worry about her mental health. If she was going to do this, and do it successfully, she was going to have to find a way to do it without his knowledge. Which wasn't doing to be easy with him fussing over her all the time. She would be lucky if he let her go to the bathroom alone.

"Kate," he repeated, letting out a long, drawn out sigh, "I really wish you'd let me call the hospital. Just for a couple of days, okay? Then, if you feel up to it, you can go back. Maybe we can even get you in to see Dr. Porter."

She had no idea who he was talking about, but the way he said it, in the same apprehensive tone he'd used when insisting that she needed to relax, she didn't think it was her OBGYN.

"Okay," she agreed, deciding that she could use this to her advantage, to kill two birds with one stone. That way, she could give him what he wanted _and_ finish what she'd come there to do, all without him realising. "If you really want me to take a break, I'll take a break, but I think we should go away for a while – on a vacation."

He didn't look too pleased with this suggestion, since it would require him to take a break too, but as she expected, he didn't argue, not when he thought he had the upper hand. "Where did you wanna go?" he asked slowly, humouring her, and she could tell that he was trying to be supportive.

She didn't need to think about it before answering, to both his surprise and chagrin, "Sydney. Australia."

* * *

Ha! See? I had a plan. ;) Those news stories were real, by the way.

Next chapter: More on Australia, and we might see some familar faces in future... ;)


	23. Chapter 23

Thanks for the reviews. For anyone who's still confused, Kate's in the same timeline she was when she met Jack, just in 2004 rather than 2001. They're togther now because when she moved to L.A., she changed both their futures. Diane is still dead, murdered by Wayne... and as for everything that's happened since -- you'll find that out over the next few chapters. ;)

* * *

Chapter 23. Scars

"Australia?" Jack repeated, staring at her, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. "When you said you wanted to go away, I was thinking somewhere closer, maybe up the coast."

He lowered his voice, wrapping his arms around her, and bowing his forehead against hers, trying to entice her to agree. "We could go somewhere quiet, spend a couple of days on the beach…"

But as much as she loved the sound of that, spending time alone with him was no longer her priority, not after her mother; she couldn't allow him to distract her from her mission again.

"No – it has to be Sydney," she insisted, and he let go of her, his expression darkening, losing patience with her.

"You're twenty-nine weeks pregnant, Kate," he reminded her. "They won't even let you on the plane."

"They would if you wrote me a doctor's certificate," she pointed out, remembering that Claire had been about eight months along when she boarded the plane, but he shook his head.

"No, Kate. I don't think that would be a good idea," he told her, his tone careful, as if he were talking to a difficult child.

He was starting to get on her nerves, making her wish she'd never come to L.A. in the first place. There would be no one to stop her then. "Please, Jack," she pleaded, wishing that she could just ditch him and go to the airport herself, but she couldn't hurt him like that. He wouldn't understand. "It'll be okay – the baby's not due for another," she did a quick calculation, based on the information he'd given her, "two months. I only want a week. It won't even be an issue."

With a reluctant sigh, his resolve to talk her out of it faded, but she could tell that he still wasn't convinced, which only made her love him more. It seemed like the Jack in this timeline would do anything to make her – his wife – happy. "Sydney's really want you want?" he asked, resigning himself to her answer.

"It's really want I want," she confirmed, grinning at him, pleased that she wasn't going to have to fight him, and placing a kiss on her forehead, he pushed himself to his feet.

"I'll go start making the arrangements. You'll be down in a few minutes?" he checked, pausing halfway to the door.

"Sure," she agreed with a weak smile, her triumph lessening with each passing second. "Right after I go to the bathroom."

Sliding off the bed, she braced one hand against the headboard until she grew accustomed to the baby's weight, straightening up to see that he was still in the room, watching her from the doorway, his expression strange and unreadable.

In all the time that she'd known him, she'd never seen that look before. It was almost frightening, desperate and possessive, like a drowning man searching for something to hold onto.

"You know I love you, right?" he said, almost out of the blue, his voice hoarse with emotion, and for a moment, she was afraid that he was going to break down in front of her. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you – or the baby."

She didn't know how to respond to that, something about his expression making her wonder if her feelings for him had changed, and he knew it, somehow, but he saved her from having to make a decision by ducking into the hall, leaving her to muse on how out of character his behaviour was, as she made her way to the bathroom.

The Jack she knew, both before and on the island, wasn't clingy and co-dependent; while there were times that he didn't understand or like it, he'd always respected her need for space, waiting for her to come to him.

But this one…

Anyone would think she was dying, the way he was acting, she scoffed, turning the taps on and splashing her face, but as she reached for a towel, she saw something that made her stomach lurch:

A long pink scar on the inside of her wrist, one that had never been there before.

She tried to tell herself that it didn't mean anything; that it could have happened by accident, until she caught sight of a matching one along the vein on the other side. Though fully healed now, both were relatively fresh, no more than a year or two old.

Lifting her eyes to the mirror on the medicine cabinet, she caught sight of her reflection, ashen faced and aghast, yanking the door open to find it stocked with more pills than she'd ever seen in one place outside of the hospital. Some had names she'd never heard of, but others filled her with dread: Risperdal, Aloperidin, Lithium, Prozac, sleeping pills… anti-depressants, anti-psychotics, bi-polar medication… the complete cocktail, all half full, none dated beyond February of that year.

Right around the time she would have fallen pregnant.

Taking out the closest bottle, she checked the name of the doctor who'd prescribed it, a Dr. Steven Porter, according to the label; the same Dr. Porter she was sure Jack had been so reluctant to bring up, the one he'd wanted her to see; to Mrs. Katherine Shephard.

It was the first time she'd seen her name coupled with his in that way, but instead of thrilling her, it filled her with fear and confusion. The sedatives Jack had given her were only the beginning; he really believed she was crazy, disturbed.

That, or in this timeline, she was, she realised, returning her eyes to the scars on her wrists. There were no hesitation cuts. Both were perfectly straight, accurate. She'd known exactly what she was doing; it was probably only through Jack's intervention that she'd survived.

No wonder he was so reluctant to let her out of his sight. She hadn't even finished her treatment.

This was going to make stopping the crash a lot harder than she'd anticipated. There was no way she could involve Jack now, or tell him what she was doing, not when he already thought she was psychotic. He'd have her locked up until they could dope her again, that or talk the doctor into delivering the baby early so that she could resume her treatment. He'd think it was a cry for help. He wouldn't listen.

She shoved the medication back onto the shelf and slammed the door when she heard him on the stairs, meeting him in the bedroom. She didn't know what to say to him now, afraid of fuelling his anxiety with more questions or inexplicable behaviour. Who knew what he was thinking after she'd woken up unable to remember important details, like the date, or the fact that she'd insisted they were having a girl?

"Is everything okay?" he asked her, furrowing his brow as he scrutinised her expression, trying to see beyond the smile she'd pasted there for his benefit. "You've been up here a long time."

"Uh huh," she agreed, her voice coming out more shrilly than she'd intended. "I was just on my way down. You know how it is – everything takes longer these days."

His expression softened at these words, the weight seeming to leave his shoulders, and he flashed her a genuine smile as he rubbed her belly affectionately. "Not long to go now," he told her in what she assumed was meant to be an encouraging tone, his words taking on a whole new meaning in light of her recent discovery.

"Did you call the hospital?" she asked, anxious, and eager to get it all over and done with.

He licked his lips, phrasing his next sentence carefully as he explained, "I told my dad what was happening, and he agreed to cover my patients," the animosity he usually reserved for his father missing from his voice.

That was one positive in all this, she decided; his father was alive and in the U.S., the two of them no longer at odds with each other. She wished she could say that it was through her interference, but she couldn't help wondering if it hadn't happened indirectly, with her _condition_ forcing Jack to rely on his father. He would have needed someone to confide in, and she, she noted with regret, wasn't up to the task.

"I booked a flight for one, to give us time to pack," he told her, bringing her back to the moment, "but before we get on the plane, I need you to do me a favour," he continued, looking nervous and tentative, and her heart sank as she realised what his terms were going to be. He wanted to know what was going on inside her head, but he was too afraid to ask her himself. "I made you an appointment with Dr. Porter – if he thinks it's a good idea, then we'll go."

* * *

Next chapter: Kate talks to her therapist, and learns more about her suicide attempt... ;) 


	24. Chapter 24

Thanks for the reviews. I'm glad you guys are all so excited -- I was convinced I was going to get flamed, even though I thought it was a cool idea. This is mostly an exposition chapter, filling in the details of what's happened to them of the past couple of years. I'll try to write something light (and Jatier!) next time. ;)

* * *

Chapter 24. The File

"Jack tells me you woke up this morning determined to go to Sydney. Why Sydney, Kate?"

An hour later, Kate was dressed and sitting in Dr. Porter's office downtown, while Jack waited for her out in the hall, listening to him fire question after question at her in what was the most one-sided conversation she'd ever been forced to participate in: How was she? How was the baby? Had they chosen a name yet? How were things at work? At college? With Jack?

Middle aged, and paternal, reminding her a little of her father, he seemed like a nice enough man when he wasn't in therapist mode, but when he was, he had a slow, condescending way of speaking that made her want to kill herself just to get away.

"Why Sydney?" he repeated when she didn't offer him an answer right away, pissing her off, because she didn't have one to give him. Not one that he would encourage.

"I wanted to see the Bridge," she told him, folding her arms on top of her belly, her poorly reigned hostility not escaping his notice.

"I'm here to help you, Kate," he assured her, "but I can't help you if you won't help yourself. Do you want to help yourself, Kate?"

"What the hell kind of question is that?" she asked, wishing that he would stop saying her name like that, like she was five years old and in trouble. It made her feel stupid, and crazy, like he thought she could snap and become violent if he didn't deal with her with caution. "Do you really think I wanna be here? I only came because Jack asked me to."

Seizing on this, he decided to try a different tactic, the old "if you won't do it for yourself, do it for him" routine.

"I don't think I need to tell you how worried he is about you and the baby – I'm sure he's expressed that to you already," he said, almost as if he were trying to create the illusion that he was reasoning with her. Trying to get her to understand it from someone's perspective. She wondered if that every actually worked. If she'd tried to kill herself once, and come very close to succeeding, she doubted she cared much about how Jack felt.

"He's concerned you might try to hurt yourself again," Dr. Porter continued, the thought filling her with disgust.

"Why would I do that?" she asked him, desperately trying to understand why everyone in this timeline thought she was a danger to herself, and her child. Even when she was on the run, and she was convinced that there was no way out, no other that she would ever be free, she'd never been able to resort to something so drastic and final. "I would never intentionally harm myself _or_ my baby."

Dr. Porter straightened in his chair, his full attention on her, his next words sending a chill through her. "Do you remember? That's what you said last time."

This repetition of the phrase Jack had used caused her to flash back on his words from earlier that morning:

_I know you don't wanna hear it, but after what happened last time…_

Was it possible that _she _was what was wrong with the baby? The one he'd implied that they'd lost?

"I understand that you have blue days, Kate," Dr. Porter was droning on, "that's normal, but I need to know that if you feel like you're not in control of those thoughts, you'll call someone – Jack, your father, myself, even an anonymous hotline can help if you're afraid of being judged… Can you do that for me, Kate?"

She hadn't absorbed most of what he was saying, still lost in thought, but she was vaguely aware that he'd asked her a question, so she nodded, relaxing a moment later, when he said, "I can tell we're not going to make much progress this session, so would you excuse me, Kate?"

She nodded again, watching him stand up from his chair and leave the office, calling Jack over. She could see Jack listening intently, nodding, as they held some kind of whispered conference in the hall, making decisions for her, no doubt, she thought bitterly.

She couldn't hear what they were saying, so she turned back around, studying the certificates on the wall while she waited for Dr. Porter to return, until her eyes fell on the file on his desk. Inside, would be his notes from every session she'd ever attended with him, including the one right before her previous suicide attempt; checking to make sure that he was still distracted with Jack, she crept around to his chair, steeling herself before flipping it open.

It was filled with reports, one for each week since 2001; digging out the earliest one, she skimmed over it, before moving on to the next, knowing that she didn't have much time if she wanted to avoid arousing the psychologist's suspicions.

Jack had first brought her there after her mother's death, she read, on a referral from his father, when she became depressed, insisting that she was responsible. According to the report, at the time, she was having "homicidal thoughts", including "violent delusions" of murdering her stepfather, who was never caught or punished.

To "manage" her "condition", Dr. Porter had started scheduling weekly sessions with her, prescribing the drugs she'd seen in the bathroom; she'd responded well to the treatment, returning to her normal routine, until she learned that she was pregnant.

After deciding to go off the medication, her "symptoms" had escalated, culminating in a suicide attempt six weeks before she was due to give birth. Jack had found her in the bathtub with both her wrists cut (and received separate counselling, which he was still undergoing sporadically), and taken her to the emergency room, where the doctors had revived her, but were unable to save the baby.

She was given a blood transfusion, and an emergency c-section, and spent the weeks that followed in the psychiatric ward of the hospital, recovering, before being released. After starting back on the same prescription, albeit increased dosages, she'd resumed her normal activities, but had begun to exhibit the same warning behaviour two years later, during her second pregnancy. Dr. Porter had recommended institutionalising her until after the birth, but Jack had contested this, insisting that it would only make her condition worse. He had, however, agreed to notify Dr. Porter if her behaviour changed, and he had reason to believe that these measures were needed.

In other words, if she told him about the crash, he really would have her locked up to keep it from happening again.

Closing the folder, she tried to digest this, sickened by the idea that in trying to end her own life, she'd murdered their unborn child. It was amazing that Jack had forgiven her; remembering the way he'd looked at her, reminding her of how much he loved her and the baby, she shuddered. It was like he was already preparing himself for the worst.

Peeking back into the hallway, she saw that he was shaking Dr. Porter's hand, and smiling, thanking him; realising that the meeting was wrapping up, she returned to her own seat, staring down at her belly so that the psychologist couldn't see her guilty expression.

But when she thought of the baby now, it was tainted; she wasn't sure she deserved it, or Jack. Not when she'd done so much to hurt him. Whatever had happened to him in the previous timeline, the one she'd replaced by coming to L.A., this had to be worse.

"I spoke to Jack, and we agreed that a change of scenery is the best thing for you right now," Dr. Porter told her with a kindly smile as he sat back down in his chair, and she felt a little glimmer of hope, thinking that they might actually trust her, until he added, "But I've given him the name and number of a colleague over there if you feel you need someone to talk to. Enjoy Sydney, Kate. I'll see you when you get back."

* * *

Next chapter: Packing, the airport, and I may include the first of the cameos I'm planning... ;) 


	25. Chapter 25

Thanks for the reviews. For anyone who's wondering why Jack would agree to a second pregnancy, my thoughts are that he didn't... But once there was a baby, there wasn't much he could do about it, not if Kate insisted on having it.

I know I said they were going to go to the airport in this chapter, but I felt like they both needed some form of closure first. (I'm sorry it's not happier -- I almost cried while writing it! ;)

* * *

Chapter 25. Sorry

Jack was silent as he paid for the appointment, and led Kate out of Dr. Porter's office, glancing over at her every so often, as if he were trying to see inside her mind, to read it. She was still reeling from the information she'd gleaned from her file, about the first baby, but she forced her expression to remain blank, afraid that he would take her despair for depression, and ground them both.

"Do you need anything from the store? For the trip?" he asked her once they were in the car, on their way back to the house, "Because I can stop if you want."

He sounded uncomfortable, like he didn't know what to say to her anymore; it saddened her to hear him talking to her like a stranger, after the intimacy they'd shared just days before. More than anything, she wanted to go back and change things, but there was so much water under the bridge that she didn't know where to start.

"I want to see the baby," she told him, when the tension became unbearable, deciding that this was as good a place as any, and he gave her a strange look, until she added, unsure of how else to phrase it, "Not this one."

The change was instant: his whole body tensed, on alert, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel. "Why, Kate? Why now?"

"What do you mean, _why_?" she pressed, surprised that he even had to ask. "Because it's my right as a mother to visit the place where my baby is buried." The word felt strange in her mouth, and it didn't seem to sit well with him, either, almost as if he couldn't make up his mind as to whether or not she should be allowed to call herself that.

"What I meant," he explained, his bitterness palpable in this tone, "is that you've never showed any interest before."

This comment stunned her into silence as he turned the car around, and drove to a cemetery a couple of blocks from the hospital, parking and getting out ahead of her. She had to scurry to keep up, which wasn't easy, as he wove his way through the headstones, heading straight for the Garden of Angels with the kind of unwavering confidence that told her he'd walked that path dozens of times before.

But not with her.

Watching him crouch down to rearrange the flowers and little toys around a particular grave – the baby's – she wondered if he stopped there on the way home from work sometimes, or on his lunch break, without telling her, afraid of pushing her over the edge, of giving her another reason to remove herself from his life. The thought of him suffering alone that way broke her heart; she felt a tear slide down her cheek, catching on her bottom lip, when she got close enough to read the plaque:

BABY SHEPHARD

04/08/2002

They'd never even given it a name, not even for the purpose of burial, as if it were too painful to acknowledge the fact that they'd once had hopes and dreams for this child, about who it would be, but she could tell from the pink and white flowers, and the little teddy bears, that it had been a girl. She wondered if that was why she wanted another one so badly, to replace the one she'd taken, not just from herself, but from Jack, who would never get to hear his daughter call him Daddy, or teach her the piano, or dance with her at her wedding.

He would never know her, because she was selfish and weak, too selfish to realise what she was doing to him. To all of them.

"Why didn't I ever come here with you, Jack?" she asked when he stepped back beside her, swallowing hard, trying to compose himself. To show her that he didn't blame her, even though deep down, she knew that he did.

"I guess you wanted to forget what happened," he said, staring straight ahead at the plaque, but while he had the grace not to say it, or even allude to it, she knew what he was thinking.

She should never be allowed to forget. He hadn't.

"I'm so sorry, Jack," she choked out, bringing a hand up to cover her eyes as she sobbed into her palm, her heart aching with an emptiness unlike anything she'd ever experience before. "If I could take it back…"

But she knew better than to try this time. She was going to stop the crash, to redeem herself by saving the other passengers, and then, that was it. After that, she would devote the rest of her life to him and their baby, doing her best to make up for all the pain that she'd caused him, not just here, but in all the other timelines as well.

He'd spent the last three years trying to fix her, and become broken himself. It was her turn to fix him now.

He nodded, swallowing, hard, looking up at her, but this time, as he studied her, the corners of his lips turned up into a tiny smile.

"What?" she asked him, some of the weight lifting from her heart to see him looking almost hopeful again.

"I don't know, you just seem… different," he confessed, turning his face away, embarrassed when she cocked an eyebrow at him, supplying, "Sane?" with a wry smile.

"No," he corrected her, even though she knew that the word was still there, hanging in the air between them, breaking into a soft, affectionate grin as he remembered the way he'd teased her in her apartment all those years ago, "Just more like yourself. I've missed that – I've missed us."

"Well you'd better get used to it," she told him, meeting his eyes to let him know how serious she was, that it was really her talking, and not the manic side of her personality, "because Dr. Porter's right, I do want to help myself. I want to do the right thing this time. For you _and_ the baby. I never want anything like this to happen again."

He gave her a grateful nod, wrapping his arms around her, and pulling her as close to him as her swollen stomach would allow. "I love you so much – both you of," he said, tearfully, touching her belly, smiling when the baby kicked back against his hand.

"We love you too," she told him with a grin, and he kissed her softly, holding her until he got his emotions under control, before letting her go with one final squeeze of her shoulders, and a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

"Come on," he said, taking her hand as they started back towards the car. "We've got a plane to catch."

* * *

Next chapter: Packing, the airport, and a cameo by one of the Losties (as promised last chapter)... ;) 


	26. Chapter 26

Thanks for the reviews. The good news is that things are going to get a lot less depressing now that they're out of their home environment and away from all the tragedy... ;)

* * *

Chapter 26. Sydney 

"So what exactly are we going to do in Sydney, Kate?" Jack called to her from their closet, taking out a pair of jeans, and adding them to the pile, before transferring everything into his suitcase. "Just so I know what to pack."

Surveying her own clothing choices, spread across the bed, with disdain, she froze, trying to keep her tone neutral as she said, "I don't know— touristy things. I haven't thought that far ahead." Before he could read too much into this, and think that she was having some kind of relapse, she covered her tracks by turning it into a joke. "I'm pregnant – aren't pregnant women allowed to have whims?"

She was sure her guilty expression would give her away, but he just grinned at her as he zipped up his suitcase, coming over to wrap his arms around her non-existent waist.

"You're right, I know better than to argue with the whims of a pregnant woman," he agreed, pulling her closer, so that her back was against his chest, tucking his chin into the crook of her neck, as he added, "Especially when that woman is my wife."

Covering his hands with her own, she turned her head to look at him, trying to appear affronted when he flashed her a mock innocent grin, but she couldn't helping grinning back. She loved hearing him call her that, even if their life together wasn't as perfect as she'd imagined.

His smile turned serious as he craned his neck to kiss her, slowly at first, then with more fervour than he had since she'd left him in 2001, no longer seeming to see her as fragile, delicate, untouchable. Realising how much she'd missed moments like this, when there were no barriers between them, she pushed free of his arms, turning around to face him before she let him replace them, her belly pressing into his as she struggled to get closer still.

He brought his hands up to cradle the back of her head, weaving his fingers through her hair as he deepened the kiss, but, remembering what she'd come there to do, she was forced to break it, resting her forehead against his.

"If we keep this up, we're gonna miss check in," she told him, breathless, but he didn't release her right away.

"I guess we'll just have to save it for tonight, huh?" he said with a coy grin, "Or this morning – I'm not exactly confident about the time difference," sneaking in several more quick kisses before finally letting her go.

Musing on this, she smiled to herself as she went into the bathroom to finish packing, her happiness fading as her eyes fell on the medicine cabinet. Glancing over her shoulder at Jack, she saw him sitting on the bed, his attention on his PDA; making a quick decision, she opened the door, taking out a bottle of tranquillisers, and tossing them into her bag with the rest of her things.

* * *

When their cab pulled up at the airport, and Jack unloaded their luggage, Kate was dismayed to see that they were heading straight for the Oceanic Airlines terminal. While she knew that the likelihood of them crashing on this plane was next to none, it felt like a bad omen, under the circumstances. 

She couldn't tell him that, though, or he'd want to know why, so she kept silent while they boarded plane, feigning interest as he pointed out things in the guidebook he'd bought at the gift shop. He was trying so hard to make it a real vacation for them, a chance for them to reconnect; even though she knew that he must have flown Economy Class last time, like the rest of them, the seats he'd booked were in First Class, a fact she was grateful for when she had enough room to sit down without feeling boxed in by her enormous girth, and to stretch her sore legs. She wondered if that was what he'd had in mind.

After getting over her initial anxiety at being on a plane again, she found that she was so comfortable she managed to sleep through most of the flight, waking, groggy and disoriented, about a thousand miles off the coast of Australia.

Jack had finished with the a couple of hours after take off, filling her in on its contents, and by the time they landed in Sydney, they'd agreed to visit the Opera House, the Harbour Bridge and the aquarium that ran under it, in addition to a number of other things he thought looked like they were worth seeing.

She didn't really mind what they did, as long as she made it back to the airport before 2:55pm on the 22nd of September; she was just happy to see him looking so enthusiastic about something, _anything_. He deserved that much after everything she'd put him through.

Everything she was going to put him through, she thought with more than just a touch of guilt, remembering the pills in her bag.

Her legs felt like rubber when they got off the plane, the extra weight she was carrying making them numb after sitting for so long, and she had to lean on Jack's arm until the circulation returned, somewhere around baggage claim, when he left her to go get their suitcases.

She was standing there looking for somewhere to sit while she waited, when she heard a familiar Southern drawl booming through the airport, mingled a more discrete Australian one.

Turning around, her eyes widened when she saw Sawyer, trying to antagonise one of the guards, though whether the guard had picked on him first, or he'd just angered the southerner by doing his job, she couldn't tell.

"What the hell is your problem, _mate_?" Sawyer was saying, in that overly dramatic way that always made her smile, the one she called "belligerent", teasing him about going out of his way to alienate the other survivors. "My belt set off your damn gate – so what? I don't see you askin' them to let you do a cavity search." He pointed to the elderly couple that had passed through the gate beside him unnoticed.

"If you could just take off you belt and walk back through, please," the guard said for what sounded like the umpteenth time, sighing when Sawyer ignored him, continuing his rant.

"You want me to take my pants off too? Why don't _you_ walk through? You're the one who's packin' heat."

"Just walk back through, Sir," the guard repeated in an exasperated tone, reaching for his walkie.

Cursing under his breath, Sawyer begrudgingly did as he told, throwing his belt at the guard as he stormed back through; it was at that moment that he noticed Kate watching him, turning his attention, and his venom, on her.

"Hey, what're you starin' at?" he yelled, just in time for Jack to rejoin her with their luggage.

"What did you just say to her?" he asked, his head whipping in Sawyer's direction, his voice taking on the same sharpness that it always did when he was dealing with the southerner, even though he didn't know who he was yet.

"I _said_, maybe you should tell your wife to mind her own damn business – unless she just wanted to see what a real man looks like," Sawyer snarled back, gearing up for a fight, prompting Jack to drop their suitcases, and take a step towards him, his eyes flashing with fury, before Kate caught his elbow, holding him back.

"Let it go, Jack," she urged him, reluctant to witness another one of their scraps, especially one that had started over her. There was no reason for them to fight anymore; she'd made her choice, even if neither of them knew it. "Can't you see he's just trying to provoke you? He can't help himself – he never could."

With a sigh, Jack relaxed his fists, picking up their luggage; as they continued on towards the cab rank, she heard Sawyer make the sound of a whip cracking, trying to goad him into turning around.

Jack stopped at the sound, and she could see that he was weighing up the consequences of slugging him in the face, but fortunately for her, he was the more mature of the two, the muscles in his jaw tensing as he forced himself to keep moving.

"Do you know that guy, Kate?" he asked when they were far enough away that the southerner wouldn't hear them. A quick glance at him told her that he was jealous; some things never changed.

She didn't know how to explain how she did, nor did she want to get into it with him, so she shook her head, hoping that he wouldn't see through her lie. "No."

But of course, he did. She hadn't done a very good job of hiding it. "Then what was all that back there – about him not being able to help himself? That sounded pretty specific to me."

Realising that he had her cornered, and that she was going to have to come clean, she sighed, settling for an abridged version of the truth. "Okay, _yes_, I do know him – or I_ did_ – but that was a long time ago, a whole other life. It doesn't matter now. None of it does."

* * *

Hee, hee! I don't know why, but for some reason, the idea of AU Jack and Sawyer wanting to fight each other made me laugh. Their struggle for dominance was one of the things I enjoyed most about season one (especially that awesome water bottle punch!)... 

Next chapter: I feel like I owe you some fluff... ;)


	27. Chapter 27

Thanks for the reviews. I think some fluff is definitely in order. I'm so depressed today, after hearing that even if Lost starts airing as planned, due to the writers' strike (which I fully support, but am nevertheless frustrated with), it might go on hiatus again midseason... I'm sure you all are too (now!).

Just a word of warning: I have a lot on this weekend (including my birthday on Monday!), so updates might be a little slower in coming. I'll do my best, but I can't promise a chapter each day... ;)

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Chapter 27. Raincheck

The sky was pitch black when they left the airport, despite the fact that Kate's watch still read 5 a.m.

"Do you realise we just lost a whole day?" Jack said as he loaded their luggage into the trunk of the cab he'd just hailed. "It's eleven p.m. here, on the sixteenth – that's eighteen hours we'll never see again."

"You're kidding? They're really that far ahead?" Kate asked him with a laugh, but secretly, she couldn't help feeling relieved.

That brought her one whole day closer to the crash, and the normal life she'd craved since blowing up Wayne; already, the wait was driving her to distraction, as she worried about whether or not she'd be able to pull her plan off without arousing Jack's suspicions.

She had the sleeping pills tucked away in her bag if it came to that, but she didn't want to take the risk of him finding out that she'd drugged him; it would be easier if she could find a way to slip off on her own. Maybe she could make up a story about going shopping, but then, he was just as likely to insist on tagging along, to make sure she wasn't going to jump off the Harbour Bridge this time. It wasn't like he had anything more important to do; he was on vacation.

It was too late for them to do anything but go to their hotel, so Jack gave the driver directions, before settling back beside her to watch the city lights. As he and the driver chatted about places to go, and things worth seeing, he seemed more relaxed than he had since she'd met him in this part of the timeline, and even though the trip was a cover for something less fun, she found that she was looking forward to exploring the city with him; the closest she'd come to seeing Sydney last time was the security office in the airport.

The restaurants had all closed their kitchens at nine, so once they were in their room, Jack ordered room service, waiting until they were both fed and settled before cupping her shoulders gently in his palms, testing the waters.

"I hope you slept well on the plane, because it's 7 a.m. by my watch, and I seem to remember something about a raincheck…" he murmured, his voice low and tender, but still with a hint of apology, as he brushed her lips with his, drawing her into a slow, sweet kiss.

"Actually, that was your idea," she reminded him with a grin when he pulled back to monitor her reaction, but she didn't put up a protest, melting under his touch, when, encouraged by this, he pressed her back into the pillows, grazing his way down the delicate skin of her throat.

"It was, was it? Well, good for me," he agreed, in between kisses, his actions becoming less hesitant now that the immediate threat of rejection had passed.

It wasn't until he reached for the buttons of her blouse that she became aware of her growing apprehension, uncomfortable in her skin in spite of the fact that she beginning to enjoy being pregnant. She didn't feel beautiful and sexy like she had all those others times they were together, when he was consumed with desire for her; the whole things felt a little strange and unsettling, not the least of all because it wasn't really just the two of them in the room anymore.

"I'm sorry," she told him, pushing him off of her gently, but firmly, and sitting up, really meaning it as she watched his eyes darken with disappointment. "I guess I'm just a little self-conscious. It feels a little strange." She patted her stomach to let him know that the issue was with her, and not him.

"It's been a while," he agreed, his expression somewhere between shame and embarrassment as he settled back against the headboard beside her, rubbing his face with his hands. She felt bad for him, feeling guilty for wanting to touch his wife, especially when he let out a long, resigned sigh, eyeing her belly. "A long while."

She realised that she must have given him a stunned look, surprised at how bad, or at least how strained, things were between them, because, seeming to misinterpret this, and afraid of how she might have taken it, he rushed on, "But it's fine, Kate, really – I'm not one of those guys whose eye starts wandering because his pregnant wife doesn't wanna have sex. I have more respect for you – and our marriage – than that."

He smiled, a genuine smile, his eyes taking her in a way that assured her that he still thought she was all of those things; beautiful _and _sexy, and just all around gorgeous; and she knew that he was being sincere when he added, "Besides, I can't think of any other woman I'd want."

She grinned back at him, charmed by his words, and he gave her a slight nod, and a tiny smile, as if to make sure that they had an understanding: that he would wait until she was ready, even if that wasn't for another few months. He looked like he was going to change the subject then, to suggest that they do something else, something she was more comfortable with, like actually take a nap, but before he could open his mouth, she leant in and sealed it with her own.

"I don't think I tell you often enough how amazing you are, or how much I love you," she confessed with an adoring grin when they finally broke for air, no longer caring about anything except how much she wanted him at that moment.

He really was the most amazing man she'd ever known; she kept waiting for him to give up on her, to realise that she wasn't worth it, that it was all a mistake, but no matter how far she pushed him, he never did, in this, or any other life.

She wasn't sure what she'd one to deserve his unending love, but she was determined not to keep taking it for granted.

"Probably not, but you can tell me again… or better yet – you can show me," he teased her, wrapping his arms around her, and bringing her back to him, his eyes warm and loving as he pulled her in for another soft kiss, and this time, when he moved to undo her blouse, she didn't even think about trying to stop him.

* * *

Okay, so maybe not entirely fluffy, but breaking down the walls and reopening channels of communication takes time...

Next chapter: More pointless tourist activities (Boy am I getting tired of writing these things, but at least I've been there this time!), including a romantic harbour cruise... ;)


	28. Chapter 28

Thanks for the reviews and the lovely birthday wishes. I know I said I probably wouldn't have time to update, but I can't help myself, so I wrote this chapter last night, while I _did_ have time (This is why I relate so well to Jack. I can be obsessive, and I have committment issues -- as in I can't let go either!)... ;)

* * *

Chapter 28. Starting Over

With her body clock telling her that it was mid afternoon, Kate was tired again by the time she and Jack got up, but she pushed this aside, knowing that what he needed to see was the playful, energetic woman he'd fallen in love with, not the shade he'd been living with for the past three years.

Already, after little more than twenty-four hours with her, he seemed happier than he had been in a long time, finding excuses to touch her, and to be affectionate with her, not because he needed to, but because he could, because he knew that she wouldn't object.

"Do you feel like going out today, or just staying here and relaxing?" he asked her as he waited for her to get dressed, admiring their view of the city, but while a part of her would have preferred to stay in their room and nap until dinner, she could tell that he was itching to take a look around, so she agreed to go exploring with him after breakfast.

Their hotel was only ten minutes walk from the harbour; walking down there with Jack's arm around her, she decided that it was even more breathtaking than the scene of their first date. While Sydney wasn't exotic when compared to L.A. or any of the other U.S. cities she'd visited, sharing much of the same infrastructure, he was impressed by how picturesque it was, and how friendly the locals were. The ones they spoke to all reminded her of Claire: good-natured and honest, with a sense of humour, most happy enough to answer their questions, or offer them directions if they asked.

They wandered along the waterfront until they came to The Rocks, a colonial district Jack explained, from what he'd read in the guidebook, was the oldest part of the city, and, at more than 215 years old, the first European settlement in Australia. In addition to the modern souvenir shops, cafes, restaurants and galleries, most of the historic buildings had been preserved, including some houses, the old police station, a windmill, observatory, and a few pubs dating back into the nineteenth century.

Tucked away at the end of one of the narrow lanes, in an old heritage listed building, they found a place called Puppet Cottage, which, according to the guidebook, was a renowned non-profit children's theatre run by a husband and wife, but Jack passed it without any outward sign of interest, thinking of the daughter they'd buried, Kate guessed.

She would have been two and a half in October: old enough to be enamoured by it, and for him to get a kick out of taking her.

It was the one dark cloud over what was otherwise a perfect day.

Afterwards, at one of the gift shops, he bought two little stuffed koalas. He didn't explain who they were for, or why he couldn't bring himself to get only one, but she knew, and this time, she vowed to go with him to deliver the second one. As painful as it was to acknowledge, they couldn't keep pretending that it hadn't happened, for fear of hurting each other; from what she'd seen, that was half the problem. They didn't talk anymore, not about anything that really mattered.

Once they'd seen everything there was to see, agreeing to come back for the markets if they got a chance over the weekend, they ate lunch at the most well known of the pubs, the Lord Nelson (circa. 1844), and by the time the actual afternoon rolled around, Kate was wiped, her feet and ankles beginning to swell in the Spring heat.

She couldn't walk anymore, so they found a bus that went back to the hotel, heading straight up to their room, where she unbuckled her sandals gratefully and sank back onto the bed.

It was late night in L.A., and even Jack seemed to be feeling the effects of the jet lag; when she crawled under the covers, to get a few more hours of sleep before dinner, he kicked his own shoes off and joined her.

"I had a great time with you today," he told her, lifting a hand to brush a few loose curls tenderly behind her ear. "Coming here was the best thing we've done in a long time."

He pressed a light kiss to her shoulder, his warm breath sending a pleasant shiver through her, before lying back down, spooning her from behind, his arms wrapped securely around her, and the precious load she was carrying. "In fact, I've been thinking – after the baby's born, we should start taking vacations more often. I want her to have good memories of us as a family."

Maybe he'd even get to take her to that theatre one day, she thought with a tiny smile, comforted by the knowledge that soon, they would both have a second chance.

"That sounds like a good idea. I glad we came here too," she agreed, settling back into him, content in the little cocoon they'd built for themselves, half a world away from the tragedies of home.

Part of her wished that she could just forget what she knew, and let fate take its course, focusing all of her energy on Jack, but her conscience was already burdened with too many deaths. She didn't know how she would ever be able to enjoy her life with him and their baby if, through her own inaction, she ended up becoming responsible for a few hundred more.

Not to mention all of those people stuck on the island.

It might not be convenient, but it was what she had to do. Their friends were counting on her.

With that thought in mind, she drifted off to sleep, waking a while later to the sound of her name.

"It's after five, and I made reservations for six, so you have to get up," Jack murmured against her ear when she stirred, keeping her eyes closed, refusing to believe that she couldn't hear him, his gentle provocation reminding her of their first morning together, when everything had been so much simpler.

Part of her still wished that she could go back to that day, to when her life was almost perfect, but by now, she knew that if she did, there was no guarantee it would change anything. Going back might just make it all worse.

"Where're we going?" she asked him, the words slurring together as she lifted her head, squinting at him under the bright light of the bedside lamp.

"You'll have to wait and see," he told her cryptically from where he was crouched by the bed, looking smug as she dragged herself to her feet, digging through her suitcase for something half decent to wear.

She found a black dress that, while not exactly slimming, didn't look like a tent on her once she'd showered and pulled it down over her belly, doing her best to compensate with her hair and make up.

She needn't have bothered, though, because when she came out of the bathroom, Jack gave her the mandatory appreciative grin, whispering encouragingly, as he leant in to kiss her cheek, "You look beautiful".

She had a feeling that he would have said that even if she were wearing a tent.

"I look like one of those killer whales you see throwing seals around on the Discovery Channel," she told him, but she smiled, pleased with the compliment, as she let him lead her out of the room, down to the cab that was waiting for them.

He instructed the driver to take them out to the harbour, to a place called Circular Quay, where glancing around, trying to figure out who he'd made the reservations with, she noticed a well lit cruise boat docked up ahead.

"I thought you said we were going to dinner?" she asked him, confused, as paid the driver, and helped her out of the backseat, taking her arm, and leading her down towards the docks.

"We are," he agreed with a grin, and once they got closer, she saw that the boat actually doubled as a floating restaurant, squeezing his hand in excitement.

After having such a peaceful, romantic day, he'd obviously tried hard to put together an evening to match; it almost felt like they were dating again, starting over from the beginning, before all the heartache.

"But this way, instead of a single view of the harbour, we get to see the best parts of Sydney – it takes in most of the major attractions, so while we eat, we can decide what we're going to do tomorrow."

* * *

Geez, I'm really beginning to hate these travel chapters! ;) Just a little (off topic) note about The Rocks: when I was 13, my family went to Sydney, and I wanted to go there, but my parents wouldn't take me. We didn't have enough time, and since they grew up around Sydney, they didn't see the attraction. So while I've been to Sydney, I've never been there... :(

Next chapter: More pointless travel stuff, maybe even more on the dinner cruise (hopefully it'll actually be fluffy this time!). I'm not going to write too many of these, just enough for them to start rebuilding their relationship... ;)


	29. Chapter 29

Thanks for the reviews. Here is the final fluff/transitional chapter before we get back to business. It also includes the second of the three major cameos (although I'm toying with a few smaller ones if I can fit them in, and it doesn't get hackneyed). And don't forget to review, because it's my birthday tomorrow, and I can't think of a better present than your feedback! ;)

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Chapter 29. A Special Time

"So how did you find out about this place?"

It was half an hour later, and Kate was seated across from Jack by the window, looking out at the harbour while they waited for their food to arrive. They were both drinking mineral water; her, because everything she'd ever heard warned her against alcohol, and him, out of solidarity for her.

When the waiter had first taken their drink orders, she'd insisted that at least one of them should take advantage of the complimentary champagne, but to her delight, he'd refused, teasing her that it was the least he could do when she was the one doing the heavy lifting.

She knew from their dates that he wasn't much of a drinker anyway, not after watching his father struggle with his addiction, although she couldn't help wondering if, after everything he'd been through in he past three years, he hadn't been just a little bit tempted.

"I saw the boats when we were down here earlier, and thought it looked like a romantic way to spend the evening, so I got the number from the front desk, and made the booking while you were asleep," he explained, reaching across the table for her hand. "Do you like it?"

His eyes were earnest, hopeful, and she could tell that he was trying hard to repair the damage in their relationship, and to bring it back to what it was, what he wanted it to be by the time their baby arrived.

"I love it," she agreed, beaming back at him, squeezing his fingers as she turned her attention back to the view. It was pretty amazing, changing with each passing moment. "It's so beautiful out here. It reminds me of home."

He smiled, pleased with this answer as he settled back to watch the harbour, and she knew that to his mind, she was talking about L.A., but somewhere deep down, she realised that that wasn't what she'd meant at all.

As much as she loved the idea of being married to him, and of raising a family with him in the real world, being in Sydney, and seeing Sawyer again, had reminded her of everything she was going to miss out on if she succeeded in stopping the crash. She was going to lose her second family, and so was Jack, all those amazing people they'd met on the island, who'd seen the best and worst of her, and forgiven her: Sawyer, Charlie, Hurley, Claire, Sun, Sayid, even the ones she had less pleasant memories of, like Locke and Juliet…

She couldn't imagine her life without any of them.

Without them, she wasn't the same. None of them would be.

It was sad, but maybe it was for the best, she decided. At least this way, everyone would be safe.

The food arrived then, and she snapped herself out of the funk she'd lapsed into, forcing a smile for Jack, who was watching her closely, waiting for a sign that the change he'd seen wasn't permanent.

While they ate, they talked about what they were seeing, and made a list of the places they wanted to spend more time on; when Jack suggested that they take a day trip over to Shark Island, a small isle that had once been used as an naval storage despot and animal quarantine area, Kate shuddered, and lied that as much as she was enjoying the cruise, she didn't think she could get on another boat any time soon.

It was easier to blame it on the baby, than tell him the truth; she could never explain it to him, not without confirming his worst fears about her, but his description creeped her out, reminding her of things she'd done her best to repress, like watching Pickett blow Sawyer's brains out.

It was still early when the boat turned back into Circular Quay, so they took another walk along the harbour, enjoying the breeze for a while, before heading back to their room.

Even though she was feeling alert, and impatient, after her nap, Kate forced herself to sleep that night, adjusting her internal clock to Sydney time, so that she wouldn't miss the small window of opportunity she had to complete her final mission.

Though she tried not to let it interfere too much with her actions, the fact that she was so heavily pregnant meant that they were limited in the places they could go, and the things they could do there.

After covering so much ground the day before, Jack took her to the aquarium, and the zoo, the following day, where there were more opportunities for her to sit down, and there they walked along a five hundred foot acrylic tunnel at the bottom of the harbour, and saw some of the strangest animals she'd ever encountered, next to the polar bear, or the monster in the jungle.

Stopping at the petting enclosure to watch a group of uniformed first graders terrorise the kangaroos, Jack chuckled, squeezing her waist gently, and seeing how happy he was, she made up her mind to suggest that they come back in a few years with the baby.

Already, she couldn't wait. She loved seeing this softer, gentler side of him, the side that was still so excited about being a parent, even after all of the pain, and the loss, and the false starts; maybe even more because he'd waited so long. It was something she'd never allowed herself to see in him before, back on the island, when she'd thought that the dream of having a family with someone like him was out of her reach.

Over the four days leading up to the crash, they managed to visit most the major tourist sites, with the exception of Shark Island, which she couldn't separate from "Alcatraz" in her mind; Luna Park, which wouldn't be worth the price of admission since she couldn't go near any of the rides; and the Kings Cross district, which they were warned to avoid, unless they were interested in strip clubs and topless bars, and Kate was adamant that they weren't, even for their novelty value.

Hers was the only body she wanted Jack looking at, even if her pregnancy had left it with a lot to be desired.

* * *

"How do you feel about trading in our tickets?" Jack asked her on the sixth night, as they left their room for dinner.

He'd just gotten off the phone with his father, and she could tell from distracted look that the news wasn't good. One of his patients had lapsed into a coma, and more than forty-eight hours later, both he and his father were afraid that he would never recover.

"Is that guy, okay? Your patient?" she checked, afraid that he was going to suggest they change their flight to the following morning, or worse that afternoon. It would be the twenty-second. C-Day. They weren't due to leave until the twenty-third.

"He's about as okay as can be expected," he told her darkly, punching the button for the lift; a few seconds later, the doors slid open, and they came face to face with Michael and Walt, on their way down to the lobby as well.

"What, Kate? Is something wrong?" Jack asked, confused, when she froze in the hall, staring at them, finding it hard to reconcile the man who smiled and asked Jack for his floor, with the one who'd shot him in cold blood, him and two others.

"Everything's fine. Sorry," she said, forcing herself to return Michael's smile as he held the doors open for her. "I guess I was just zoning."

"It's cool – my ex did that when she was pregnant too," he said, once she was inside, and the lift began to move, causing Walt to look from the videogame he was playing. "You must be due pretty soon?" Michael went on when his son went back to ignoring him, nodding at the place where her hand rested on her belly, almost as if she were trying to protect it from him.

"November," Jack agreed with a grin, oblivious to her disgust at seeing him again as he wrapped his arm around her, saving her from having to do the math for his benefit.

"Your first?" Michael asked, warming to the conversation, and Kate wished the lift would hurry up and stop so that he would leave them alone.

While she knew that there was no reason for him to hurt them, she could never forget what he was capable of, how he'd killed, and then left people he had the nerve to call friends to the mercy of their enemies.

She would show him the compassion that he'd denied his victims, and the four of them when he took off in that boat, but she wasn't going to stand around all evening and make small talk with him.

"Yeah," Jack admitted, bristling at what was obviously a difficult question for him, but aside from a momentary flash of sadness, he didn't seem at all uncomfortable.

In fact, she was pretty sure that he was enjoying their chance meeting with a fellow American.

He almost seemed disappointed when the doors opened again, and the four of them left the lift, exiting the hotel together.

"Well, nice meeting you both, and good luck," Michael told them, shaking Jack's hand, and nodding politely to Kate, as they stepped out onto the street. "It's a pretty special time – you can't even imagine what it's like until you've been there."

They would have parted ways then, if Kate hadn't felt compelled to warn him, in a way that would make sense to him, but not to Jack. It wasn't just that she wanted to save him from the island, because there was a part of her that thought he might even deserve it, but from himself, and the terrible things he was going to do there.

"I don't think it gets any less special," she called after him, remembering how he'd struggled to connect with Walt on the island. It wasn't all that different to the relationship she'd had with her own mother, or Jack with his father in their other life. They'd both taken it for granted, and they'd both lost. "You and your son should stay here for as long as you can – get to know each other before you go back. You'll thank me for it later, trust me."

And with that, she took Jack's hand, and, ignoring the look he was giving her, pulled him in their direction of their cab, leaving a stunned Michael to think about what she'd said.

* * *

Next chapter: Jack questions Kate about why she said what she said to Michael... ;)


	30. Chapter 30

Thanks for the reviews, and the Happy Birthdays. :) I'm back now, after a short break (actually I sketched out this chapter while waiting for the various members of my family to finish work, so I'm not sure it counts!) with another (angsty) installment. ;)

* * *

Chapter 30. Keeping Secrets On Both Sides

Jack didn't mention their encounter with Michael at dinner, or on the cab rides to and from the restaurant, but Kate could tell that he was thinking about it. He kept glancing over at her with a questioning look, before moving on to something less likely to cause a scene.

When they were alone, however, it was a different story.

"What was all that earlier, Kate?" he asked once they were back in the privacy of their room, preparing for bed, and even with her back to him, Kate could feel his eyes boring into her.

"What was what?" she asked him, avoiding his gaze as she unzipped her dress, stepping out of it, and into her pyjamas.

"You, talking to that guy like you knew him," he clarified when she turned to face him with a guilty look, sitting on the edge of the bed, fully dressed, and she cringed inwardly, wondering how on earth she was going to make her behaviour sound reasonable. She'd tried to keep her comments cryptic, omitting any mention of the plane or the crash, but she still wasn't sure it was something a sane person would do. "Was he another old friend?"

It took her a moment to realise that he was talking about the scene at the airport, and Sawyer, the resentment in his tone all too familiar: he wasn't comfortable with her keeping secrets, having a whole other life that he knew nothing about, only here, she wasn't just a stranger he'd met on a plane and come to care about. She was his wife.

"No, he wasn't a friend," she assured him, heading into the bathroom to brush her teeth, and avoid what was beginning to feel like an interrogation, but he got up and followed, unsatisfied with this answer.

"Then why'd you tell him to stay in Sydney? What's going on with you, Kate?" he pressed, his eyes desperate when she found them in the mirror, and she felt trapped, cornered.

She needed to find a way to put an end to the conversation, and his questions, for all of their sakes. She didn't want to give birth in the medical wing of an institution, where they would start doping her again before she'd even had the chance to ride out the natural wave of emotions.

"_Nothing_," she insisted, backtracking when he gave her a cool look, one that told her that he didn't believe her, hoping that he would just blame it on her issues. "Did you see the way he was with his son? They didn't say a single word to each other the entire time they were in the lift."

She thought that linking her strange outburst to her mother's death would soften his anger towards her, but it seemed to have the opposite effect.

"His relationship with his son has nothing to do with you, or _us_," he told her, reaching the end of his tether as he ran his hand over his forehead in exasperation. "Do you really think you're the best person to be giving out parenting advice?"

For a moment, she wasn't sure that she'd heard him right, and then she gaped at him in surprise. It was exactly the kind of attack he was always so conscious to avoid, except for that one remark in the car. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He didn't answer, holding her gaze, and she wondered if he was trying to figure out a way to smooth over the injury he'd caused her, but he didn't, his eyes flashing with an emotion she'd never seen before, so disgusted and pitying that it could almost be mistaken for hatred, if there wasn't fear and remorse mixed in too.

"It means," he began, his voice cracking as he forced himself to suppress it, too late, "that right now, I'm more concerned about _our_ relationship, Kate. I can't keep doing this, pretending that everything's fine, avoiding anything I think might make you…

"I need you to talk to me," he amended, unable to finish this thought, his tone defeated, his eyes pleading with her to give him something. "I need you to tell me what's going on in your head, because I have no idea anymore. It's like you're two people. I never know which one I'm gonna get – the real you, or this…"

"Lunatic?" she supplied, angered by his insistence on fighting her, that he couldn't just let her do what she had to do, what she _needed_ to do, to atone for all those deaths, including their daughter's. "That's why you wanna lock me up, right? You and Dr. Porter."

It was his turn to stare at her, shocked, his expression turning guilty as he headed back into the main bedroom, and she realised that it wasn't just her future self who was out of the loop on this. It looked like he had a few secrets of his own.

"I saw the file on his desk. I know you were coming around to the idea before I made you change your mind," she explained, and he nodded without speaking, resigned to the fact that she'd uncovered his deception, sending back the fragile trust they'd rebuilt.

"I'm not crazy, Jack," she whispered, afraid that he was going to call Dr. Porter, and make the arrangements, now that the game was up, he couldn't keep her calm and under his control anymore. She wasn't sure that she should blame him: she was beginning to worry that they were right about her, that it was this life that was real, and that the island was just the delusion of her diseased brain. "Everything I told him – the man in the lift – was true, even if I can't explain how I knew it."

"Are you trying to tell me you're his guardian angel too?" he asked her with a faint, lopsided grin, perching on the edge of the bed.

"Something like that," she agreed, swallowing a sob as she waited for him to deliver his verdict, but before she could do anything about it, she was crying at the hopelessness of it all, melting his resistance as he pulled her down to sit beside him.

"Hey," he said, prying her hands gently away from her face, and wrapping his arms around her. "It's okay, we're okay," he whispered into her hair, pressing his lips to the top of her head to soothe her. "I'm sorry, I guess I was just being paranoid. This week has been so great – I didn't want anything to ruin it for us."

He backed out of the hug, holding her at arm's length, his fingers digging into her biceps as he confessed, "You have no idea how much I've missed you – how sacred I've been.

"That night I came home, and I found you," he swallowed, "unconscious in a bathtub full of your own blood…" his voice broke then, and she realised that he was crying. "I've seen a lot of things in my career, but that will haunt me for rest of my life. I thought I'd lost you – we lost _her_. I can't go through that again. I can't bury another child, and I can't bury you."

She felt another lump form in her throat, her heart breaking as he let her see for the first time how scarred and vulnerable he was; she let him pull her back in, hugging her so tightly that she had to call his name to remind him to be careful. Afraid of hurting the baby, he loosened his grip, but he didn't let of either of them for a long time.

"You were right about one thing," he told her when he'd composed himself. "We're not ready to go home yet either. In fact, maybe we should even think about staying on a couple of days."

"What about your patient?" she asked him, laying her head on his shoulder, emotionally drained by the conversation.

"He's my father's now," he corrected her, smoothing the hair back from her forehead, and pressing a soft kiss to it as he added, "From now on, our family comes first."

* * *

Next chapter: September 22... but will this new, more attentive (and suspicious) Jack foil Kate's plans? ;)


	31. Chapter 31

Thanks for the reviews. For anyone who was wondering, yes, I did have a good birthday. Quiet, but good. :) I won't tell you which timeline Kate will end up in, but I will say that I only have a few more chapters planned after this one. It should end somewhere around chapter 35... ;)

* * *

Chapter 31. Desperate Measures

Kate tried to sleep that night, knowing that she would need it if she was going to keep the plane from crashing, _and _evade Jack's suspicions, but she was awake again by five, trying to figure out how she was going to succeed on both points.

She thought about getting up and sneaking out of the hotel, but she knew it wouldn't be long before he discovered her absence and called the police. He'd tell them the same story she'd read in the file on Dr. Porter's desk, about the homicidal urges, and the suicide attempt, insisting that alone and un-medicated, she was dangerous, not only to herself and their child, but maybe even to others like Sawyer and Michael as well, and they'd bring her straight back the moment she set foot in the airport.

It would all be out of love, and fear for her and their child, but without him knowing, his good intentions really would pave the road to hell for her and all of those other people. The only way to beat him was to keep up the pretence that everything was normal, so that he didn't feel like he had to work against her.

She was lying on her side, watching him pensively, when he stirred, leaning over to kiss her gently.

"Training yourself for all those sleepless nights ahead of us?" he teased her, kissing her for a second time, before dropping his head back onto the pillow and stretching.

She managed a tiny smile for him, but didn't answer, too nervous to come up with a witty response.

If he sensed that something was wrong, he didn't force the issue, propping himself up onto his side so that he was facing her. "Do you have any thoughts on what you wanna do today? Because we can check out some of the beaches, or the botanical gardens, if you want, or, if you think you've had enough of Sydney, we could take a day trip somewhere. I've heard Melbourne is nice."

He was so determined to make the most of their remaining days in Australia that she felt guilty as she replied, "Actually, I was thinking of doing some shopping," praying that she was wrong, and, that like most men she knew, he would draw the line there.

"Why is it that wherever they are in the world, women always seem to find their way to the mall?" he asked, shaking his head, and some of the tension left her at this glimmer of hope.

"Does that mean you're gonna sit this one out?" she asked, encouraged by his less than enthusiastic tone, but to her dismay, he let out a soft, affectionate chuckle, wrapping his arms around her.

"You just want me to leave you alone with the gold card so you can buy more stuff for the baby," he said with a knowing grin, kissing the top of her head, and she forced herself to give him an abashed smile, letting him think what he would.

Better baby crazy, than _crazy_ crazy.

"You're gonna need someone to help you carry it all," he told her, letting her go, and climbing out of bed, and she had to resist the urge to yell at him for being so damn supportive, and _perfect_, all the time. It was maddening.

"You sure that's how you wanna spend your day?" she pressed, waiting for him to hesitate so that she could talk him out of it, but he just smiled as he picked some clothes up off a chair and headed into the bathroom to take a shower.

"I told you last night, Kate – you and the baby come first. Anything you want or need…"

What she needed was for him to leave her alone, but since she knew that that was one request he wouldn't be so willing to comply with, she waited until the door clicked into place to ease herself out of bed, pacing in front of it as she tried to come up with an alternate plan. She had fifteen minutes at most before she was caught under his watchful eye again; not long enough to leave the room, but certainly long enough to make a phone call or two…

The first got her the number for the national security hotline, set up after 9/11; with a shaking hand, she punched it in, sucking in a deep, calming breath before beginning, "Hi… I… uh…have some information on when there's going to be a terrorist attack…"

* * *

She was still on the phone, being bombarded with questions, when the shower stopped running ten minutes later. Repeating the name of the airline, the flight number, and departure time, in a hurried whisper, she hung up just as the door opened, and Jack came out of the bathroom.

"Who were you talking to?" he asked as he added the boxers he'd slept in to the pile of laundry they still had to take care of, sitting down on the edge of the bed to wait for her.

"No one – I was just trying to get a cab to take us to the mall," she told him off the top of her head, adding, when she realised how easily her lie would be detected, "They're all in service, so we'll just have to catch a bus."

"That doesn't sound right," he said, his brow furrowing in confusion, and she bit her lip, wondering if he was going to argue with her, but a few seconds later, he shrugged, to her relief. "I guess I'll find out what time they're running."

Satisfied that he wasn't any more suspicious than he had been the night before, she took her own shower and dressed, following him downstairs for breakfast.

She had no idea whether or not her call was being treated as serious; she wanted to stay in their room and keep an eye on the news, but she couldn't risk Jack finding out what she'd done, so she spent the next couple of hours dragging him from store to store, going through the motions, as she pretended to be interested in the sales.

She picked out a couple of outfits for the baby, to make it look like their trip had a purpose, but all the while, she kept glancing at her watch, counting down the minutes until their flight was due to take off.

They ate lunch at the food court, then spent half an hour in the bookstore, choosing reading material for the plane, but by one o'clock, she was going out of her mind, unable to feign enthusiasm for anything, even baby clothes.

"You look like you could do with a nap," Jack told her as he watched her flip idly through _yet another_ rack of tiny pastel sleepsuits, moving on to the next without interest.

"Is that okay?" she asked him, perking up at the suggestion, seizing on the excuse to go back to their room and find out what was happening with the plane.

"Of course not," he teased her with a grin, shifting the bags to one hand as he slid his free arm around her waist, leading her out of the store.

As soon as they were back in their room, she hit the power button on the remote, her hands shaking so hard that she almost dropped it twice before a picture appeared on the screen. A movie was playing on the first channel, a talk show on the next, so she flipped impatiently through each of the stations, circling them twice before she found what she wanted: a news update.

"Confusion at a Sydney airport this morning," the newsreader was saying with forced cheerfulness, and Kate found that she was holding her breath, waiting to see whether or not she'd succeeded in grounding Flight 815, "after authorities received an anonymous tip about a possible terrorist attack on a flight scheduled to depart this afternoon.

"An Iraqi man, with links to a local terrorist organisation, was taken into custody for questioning, but later released. No other suspects have been identified.

"At a press conference an hour ago, a spokesperson for the Australian Federal Police stressed that there's nothing to be alarmed about – while every precaution is being taken to prevent another 9/11 scale disaster, at this stage, they're viewing the call as a prank."

* * *

BTW, the Iraqi man was Sayid. Especially since he left that backpack with Shannon, which made him look kind of suspicious... :(

Next chapter: Plan B, and at least two major cameos... ;)


	32. Chapter 32

Thanks for the reviews. For anyone who's still not sure why Kate would want to stop the crash, I'll say this: if you knew hundreds of people were going to die (including Charlie!) and people you cared about were going to be stuck in a nightmarish situation, and you could do something to save them, wouldn't you? Guilt over the path not taken is what ruined her life with Jack before... ;)

* * *

Chapter 32. Plan B

"Crap!" Kate exclaimed, loud enough for Jack to hear, as the newsreader signed off, and the movie returned.

"Is everything okay?" he asked her, looking up from the coffee he was making, his expression one of mild alarm. "Is it the baby?"

"No, she's fine, I just… remembered I was supposed to get new batteries for the camera, so we could take some pictures of the harbour before we leave," she improvised, mentally crossing her fingers as she anticipated his response.

This was going to work one of two ways: either he would allow her to run the errand herself, in which case, she would have to slip off and worry about the consequences later, _or_, he was going to offer to do it himself, providing her the opportunity to sneak out of the hotel while he was gone.

She was banking on a third option. "We'll do it first thing tomorrow, on the way to the airport," he promised, kissing the top of her head as he handed her a glass of orange juice, and joined her on the bed, nursing his mug as he fished something out of the draw. "There's a list of pay-per-view movies here – if you don't feel like sleeping yet, we could get one to watch. That way you still get to lie down."

As much as she liked the idea of curling up with him, and just spending the rest of the afternoon relaxing, she couldn't help feeling frustrated at the implication of his refusal. He still didn't seem prepared to leave her alone.

"Please, Jack?" she wheedled, doing her best to sound sincere as she added, "Remember what you said about not arguing with the whims of a pregnant woman? I want something to show the baby when we tell her about her first overseas trip."

Some of the tension left him at this fanciful, but still entirely sane, explanation, but his words told her that he still didn't trust her. "There's a 7/11 across the road," he said reluctantly, "If I go, do you _swear_ you'll stay here and rest? You won't do anything stupid?"

She could see the fear in his eyes, and she knew what he was afraid of, so she gave him her most encouraging smile, to show him that she had no intentions of repeating her previous actions. Quite the contrary. "I'll even choose a movie," she agreed.

"You promise?" he repeated, and she did, watching him pull his shoes back on, and collect his wallet from the dresser. "I'll be back in five minutes," he told her, kissing her goodbye, his hand grazing her belly, lingering there.

"In the mean time, I want you to leave the door open," he added as an afterthought as he forced himself to break away, letting himself out into the hall, and as painful as it was to admit, she knew his logic was that she was unlikely to try to slit her wrists again in full view of anyone walking past.

It made her feel like as much of a child as the one she was carrying.

She waited until she heard the lift doors close to get up, hurrying into the bathroom as fast as her sore legs would carry her, rifling through her make up and toiletries to find what she was looking for.

They weren't there; her first thought was that Jack had stumbled across them and confiscated them to prevent her from acting on another frightening impulse, but then she remembered, with relief, that she'd transferred them to the bottom of her suitcase to keep that from happening.

Ransacking her luggage, her fingers closed around the bottle, tucked underneath a pile of t-shirts; shoving everything back, she took it into the kitchen, tipping the pills onto the bench.

Once she was sure that the dosage would be enough to knock him out until dinner without doing him any real harm, she poured the rest back, and ground them with the edge of a mug, stirring the white power into his coffee. With any luck, if he noticed, he would just think it was sugar.

She had returned the bottle to its hiding place, and was studying the movie guide when he re-entered the room, his relief palpable as he settled beside her, listening to her describe the long, rambling love story she'd picked out, with the sole intention of helping the pills along.

It didn't take him long to fall asleep once he'd finished his coffee. Afraid that he'd wake up before she got back, she called his name a few times, poking his shoulder, but he was dead to the world; she was pretty sure that if the plane crashed into their hotel room, and he wouldn't have stirred.

It was ten past two by then: forty-five minutes until take off, and from what she'd heard on the news, the flight hadn't even been delayed.

Pressing a soft kiss to Jack's lips as she extricated herself from him, she snuck out into the hall, but the lift was in use; deciding that she shouldn't take the risk of multiple stop offs, she rushed down the nearest staircase, careful not to trip and hurt the baby, but was almost bowled over by Hurley when they burst into the lobby at the same time.

"Uh, sorry, dude," he said, holding his hands out to steady her as he reached for the handle of his luggage. "Is the, you know, baby, okay?"

"It's fine," she agreed, smiling at him, in spite of his awkward behaviour. After rubbing Sawyer the wrong way, and her run in with Michael, it was nice to see a friendly face. If there was anyone she wanted to save from the nightmare ahead of them, it was Hurley.

"Good, because I'm about to miss my plane," he told her, passing her with an apologetic look; as he pushed open the door, she couldn't resist calling after him, now that Jack wasn't there to question her sanity, "Hey, Hurley! Maybe it's a sign – maybe you were _supposed to_ miss it."

He gave her a strange look, shaken by her use of his nickname, but to her dismay, he accepted his keys from the valet, and climbed into his rental.

She thought about asking him for a ride, maybe even using the drive to convince him to turn around, but he looked even more afraid of her then than he had been when he'd discovered that she was the fugitive, so she let him go, hailing a cab instead, telling the driver to take shortest route to the airport.

She could still make it in time to save him and the others. She just had to convince them that it wasn't a joke.

The police were packing up when she walked into the terminal, taking their sniffer dogs and their forensic equipment, and loading them back into their vans.

"Hi, I'm supposed to be flying on Oceanic 815 – should I be concerned?" she asked the man who appeared to be in charge, hoping that he would tell her they were going home because the flight had been cancelled.

"No, Ma'am," he told her with a reassuring smile, and her despair returned, making her feel sick, not just to her stomach, but to her heart. All of those people were going to die because no one would listen to her. "We've been all over the plane, and the manifest, and everything checks out. You and your baby will be just fine."

"How can you be so sure?" she pressed, trying to exploit the twinge of doubt she knew he must feel, that anyone would feel when there was still a margin for error, but he just laughed and repeated the sentiment.

"I promise you, there's nothing to worry your pretty head about – you'll be home before you know it," he assured her, seeming to put her behaviour down to the usual neuroses pregnant women were supposedly prone to as nodded politely and he moved off to supervise the rest of the clean up.

She asked the same question at the Oceanic check in desk, and was given the same standardised answer, excusing herself under the pretence of going to find her husband.

Short of sneaking onto the tarmac, which was still swarming with security, and sabotaging the engine herself, she didn't know what else to do to keep the plane from taking off, that was, until she recognised the pilot, sitting at a table talking to a blonde woman she realised on approaching was Claire.

"Psychics are just magicians who aren't good enough to play Vegas," she overheard him saying, causing her to wonder how the conversation had got started. At least she knew he was a sceptic, so that approach was out; if she wanted him to act on her warning, she was going to have to come up with something much more concrete. "It may not seem like it, but you always have a choice."

"Thanks," Claire said, but she didn't look reassured, staring down at her paper cup.

"You're very welcome," he agreed, getting up from his seat. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a plane to get ready. I promised a slightly crazy woman I'd make the ride extra smooth. Terrorist free – you have my word."

He laughed, and she gave him a tiny smile. "Bye."

"Bye." Turning around, he saw Kate headed in their direction, flashing Claire a self-satisfied grin. "What'd I tell you? All the time."

Returning his attention to Kate, he added, with a slight nod towards her middle. "Are you on 815 too? I was just telling this lovely young lady that there's nothing to be nervous about – it's not that uncommon for women to fly right up until a couple of weeks before their due date."

Catching Claire's eye, returning her awkward smile, Kate noted with regret that in this timeline, their babies would be born less than a month apart; if they'd met on the island, they would have been much better friends, fumbling through the process of first time motherhood together. She wouldn't have been left feeling left out, watching her and Sun bond over something that she would never have.

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about – 815," she told the pilot, forcing her mind back on him.

"Don't tell me you're freaking out too," he joked, but his smile faltered when he saw that her expression was still grim. "Okay, now you're freaking _me_ out."

"Would you excuse us?" she asked Claire, and the younger woman nodded, mumbling "Sure" as Kate led him to a quiet corner of the cafeteria.

"Who are you?" he asked, confused, as he studied her, trying to guess what business she could possibly have with him.

"That doesn't matter – what matters is what I know," she told him as they sat down, growing impatient when she saw how little time she had left to convince him. "Eight hours from now, that plane is going to crash, on an island in the South Pacific. Hundreds of people are going to be killed, including you."

"Who are you?" he repeated, more agitated this time, and could tell that she was scaring him. Good. Maybe then he'd do what she said. "How do you know that? Did you have something to do with that phone call this morning?"

"Yes," she agreed, relieved that she was finally able to unburden herself to someone with the power to do something about it, "I did, which is exactly why you can't ignore it. You can try to dismiss what I'm saying, but that plane won't make it to L.A., whether you want to believe it or not – if you let it leave the runway, then all those deaths will be on you."

"What do you want?" he asked, his eyes wide, his whole body rigid. "You must want something – aren't you people supposed to have demands?"

"I _want_ you to do the right thing," she agreed, willing him to calm down. "To be a hero – that's all. Just help me save those people, _please_."

But he didn't seem to want to hear anymore. "You need help, you do know that, right?" he said, shoving his chair back as he got to his feet. "I feel sorry for that kid of yours – if you're even really pregnant. For all I know, you could be the one who's strapped."

She opened her mouth to argue with him, to insist that she wasn't crazy like people kept telling her, but before she could get another word in, he called out for security, waving his arm to flag down one of the guards.

"You want your terrorist – there's your terrorist," he spat, gesturing to her, his eyes locking on hers in a mask of disgust as he added, "I'm sure she'll tell you everything you need to know, but right now, I've got a job to do."

* * *

Next chapter: Kate finds herself back in the security office, and something she'd been dreading... ;) 


	33. Chapter 33

Thanks for the reviews. I wanted to have Locke last chapter too, so that Kate could find out that he was in a wheelchair, but I couldn't find a way to work it in without slowing down the plot... ;)

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Chapter 33. The Only Way

In spite of her attempts to convince the guards that she wasn't a terrorist _or_ a troublemaker, Kate found herself being escorted to the airport security office for the second time in her life.

They didn't put her in handcuffs this time, the guard on her right taking hold of her arm to prevent her from trying to make a break for it; not that she could have outrun him; but that didn't make the experience any less mortifying.

She could see the curious looks people were giving her as they passed them on their way through to the gates, and she wondered what they thought was going on. She figured that they assumed she'd just been caught shoplifting or something; whatever it was, it didn't discourage them from boarding the plane.

She saw Sun and Jin, Rose and Bernard, Shannon, Boone, Sayid, Charlie… The only ones who paid any attention to her were Michael and Claire, and even then, it was only with mild interest and surprise.

She spent the next two hours sitting on a hard metal chair in the cell-like room, answering a barrage of questions, from airport security, then police, and government agents, but she could tell that none of them believed her.

They all thought she was just a hysterical pregnant woman, aided, she was certain, by the background check they ran after asking her for both of her names. A quick search under either would tell them that she wasn't the most reliable source, especially now that she was off her meds.

If it weren't for the protocol put into place after 9/11, she was pretty sure that the airport manager would have handed her over to someone more qualified after hearing her rave about islands and plane crashes, but as it was, they had to settle for allowing her regular bathroom breaks, and offering her food and plenty of water.

That was one thing that didn't escape her notice; they treated her better this time, acting almost apologetic for holding her against her will.

She wasn't a criminal in their eyes this time, and it probably didn't hurt that her husband and father-in-law were among the most well-known and respected surgeons on the US West Coast. They seemed determined to avoid a costly PR headache if it turned out that she really was just a delusional housewife.

* * *

After three hours of listening to her repeat the same answers, they stopped interrogating Kate, leaving her alone, and locking the door. She would have use this opportunity to escape, but there were no windows in the office, and she could hear voices outside, telling her that the guards hadn't gone far. 

She was still sitting there, staring morosely at the graffiti etched into the tabletop, wondering if the plane had taken off yet, when she heard a soft rap on the door, and the airport manager re-entered the room with a disgruntled looking Jack on his heels.

He still looked a little drowsy and disoriented from the pills, but overall, her plan had failed. She was so sure that she'd be back by now, slipping back into his embrace as if nothing had happened, but she'd taken too long, and now, not only was he awake, but he knew.

And he wasn't impressed.

His jaw tightened when he saw her, and he shook his head, struggling to keep his fury hidden. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him so angry with her; not since she'd asked him to help her save Sawyer's life.

"Would you give us a moment? I'd like to speak to my wife alone," he said to the manager with as much forced politeness as he could muster, and the manager gave her a pitying look before ducking back out of the room and closing the door behind him, almost as if he knew how the conversation was going to go.

Already, she was dreading it. If he thought she was out of control before…

"What the hell are you doing, Kate?" he demanded as soon as he was gone, losing the calm and collected front he'd maintained up until that point. "Do you have any idea how humiliating it was to get a call saying I had to come to the airport to bail my pregnant wife out on charges of suspected_ terrorism_? I had to explain our entire history to them before I could get them to let me take you out of the country."

A flicker of concern passed over his features, and she thought he was finished, until she realised that he was just warming up.

"Not to mention how worried I was when I woke up and found you gone. When that phone rang, and I heard it was the police… I was so sure they were gonna tell me I'd lost you – both of you – for good this time, and let me tell you, Kate, if they did…" he trailed off, his eyes glistening, choking on the end of this thought as he turned and smacked his palm against the wall.

For the first time in all the months she'd known him, she flinched, wondering what he would have done if she wasn't pregnant. She'd never seen that wild look in his eyes before.

"I'm not crazy, Jack," she told him for what felt like the thousandth time that week when he took a deep breath, reigning in his emotions, willing him to listen to her just this once. If anyone could find it inside themself to give her the benefit of the doubt, it should be the man she loved. "Every word I said to the pilot was true. That plane _is_ going to crash, and when it does, we're supposed to be on it."

"A plane crash," he repeated with a bitter, self-deprecating laugh, shaking his head again. "I always thought that was a pick up line…

"You keep saying that, Kate – that you aren't crazy – and I keep believing you, but look what happens, every time I do.

"How long before you do something else you can't take back? Before you try to hurt yourself again? Or the baby… Do you know how much it hurts that I can't even trust my own wife with our child? That I'm thinking of asking my parents to take her until I figure out what to do?"

"Jack—" she began, pleading with him to give her one more chance to prove that she wasn't a basket case, but he cut her off before she could go on.

"No, Kate," he said firmly, and seeing the same look of disgust that the pilot had given her, she felt like her heart was breaking, for him, or herself, or both of them, she didn't know; maybe all of them, their baby included.

"I can't keep doing this – hoping that you'll wake up one day, and be the woman I fell in love with. I'm not even sure which is the real you anymore – I don't think I want to."

She could see that he wouldn't listen to another word about the crash, so she decided to change the subject, to get him to elaborate on an earlier point, one that had disturbed her more than anything else he'd said or done since he arrived.

"So what's gonna happen now?" she asked, almost resigned to his answer. She couldn't say that she hadn't been warned; she knew it was the risk she'd taken when she walked out that door. "If you can't trust me, then where does that leave us?"

He turned away from her, staring straight ahead at the bare, whitewashed wall, and she could see the anguish in his profile, the way he swallowed before speaking.

"I called Dr. Porter on the way over, and he's meeting us at LAX," he told her, his voice devoid of any emotion; switching off, like he always did when something became too much for him to deal with without detaching himself.

"I wish I didn't have to do this, Kate – I wanted to keep you with me – but you took away that choice when you drugged me. All I want now is to make sure my family is safe, and this is the only way I can."

* * *

Next chapter: Jack and Kate return to the hotel, and see the evening news... ;) 


	34. Chapter 34

Thanks for the reviews. As promised, here is the penultimate chapter: the moment of truth! ;)

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Chapter 34. Lose/Lose

Once they'd received confirmation from Dr. Porter that Kate was more of a threat to herself than to national security, they gave in to Jack's insistence that he be allowed to take her home, letting them walk out of the airport together.

Feeling trapped by the realisation that, once again, her last night in Australia had turned into her last night of freedom, she thought about trying to run; at least until she could figure out a way to make him change his mind; but his grip on her hand was like a vice, so tight it was almost bruising. She was sure that the bones must be cracked, if not broken, by the time it eased up enough for him to help her into the backseat of their cab.

He wasn't going to let her get away from him again; not until he was secure in the knowledge that she couldn't hurt herself, or him, anymore.

Neither one of them spoke on the ride back to the hotel, or in the lift, the silence reminding her of the one that had passed between them on the way home from Dr. Porter's office. In the space of a week, their relationship had come full circle: from strained, to unsalvageable; from him believing that she was disturbed, to being certain of it.

"Are you hungry?" he asked her, his voice low and gruff, but still touched with concern, as he unlocked the door to their room.

"No. They gave me a sandwich," her own voice coming out timid and meek, and he nodded, relieved.

"Good."

"Jack—" she tried again, seizing on the small opening afforded her by the fact that he'd started the conversation; if anyone could call it that; but he shook his head.

"I can't do this tonight, Kate, I'm too tired – I just wanna go to bed, and pretend this day never happened."

Dropping his wallet and keys on top of the dresser, he went into the bathroom, coming out a few minutes later in his t-shirt and boxers.

"You should get some rest too," he told her, switching off all but the lamp on her side of the room as he climbed into bed. "Unless there's some other disaster you need to warn people about."

Watching him turn onto his side, facing away from her, towards the window, she found herself stunned into silence by his tone: he'd been hurt and angry with her before, distant even, like the night of her accident, but never sarcastic and cruel. If she hadn't know it before, she knew it then: he wasn't the same man she'd fallen in love with, here, or back on the island; she felt like she didn't know him anymore.

Changing her own clothes, she crawled into bed beside him, turning the TV on low, but she couldn't sleep, afraid that if she did, she'd miss out on learning whether or not her plan had succeeded.

She wasn't even sure what that meant anymore, what she wanted, or expected, to hear: if she'd managed to stop the crash, then no one but her would ever know, and they'd all still think she was crazy and lock her up, and if she didn't, then her friends were all doomed.

It was lose/lose whichever way she looked at it.

She had just begun to drift off when the drama they were playing was interrupted by a woman's voice, grave and concerned as she announced that she had breaking news.

Realising that this could be the moment she'd been waiting for, Kate she forced herself to sit up, shaking off her exhaustion as she read the headline at the bottom of the screen:

COMMERCIAL PLANE FROM SYDNEY TO L.A. DISAPPEARS MID-FLIGHT – HUNDREDS PRESSUMED DEAD.

So there it was. She wasn't crazy.

Oceanic Airlines Flight 815 really had crashed, in spite of everything she'd done to prevent it.

She didn't know whether to laugh or to burst into tears when it hit her that while she'd been vindicated, it had come at the cost of all of those people being killed, or stranded back on that island, without Jack to lead them through the dangers this time.

She wondered if someone like Sayid, or Locke, would step up to the plate, like they had while she, Jack and Sawyer were with the Others, or if the camp would descend into chaos: _Lord of the Flies_.

She was only able to pick out keywords ("Oceanic", "815", "pilot", "radio contact"), so she scrambled for the remote, bumping Jack, and waking him in the process.

"What're you doing, Kate?" he asked her, his speech slurred as he brought a hand up to shield his eyes, rubbing them, and struggling up against the headboard when he saw how agitated she was. "What time is it?"

"It's almost midnight," she agreed, her eyes returning to the screen, mesmerised by the story unfolding: _their story_, only they were no longer a part of it. It felt strange to be watching it from this angle; like peeking through a window at her life. "Look."

Reluctantly, he did, sitting bolt upright as he stammered, "What is this, Kate? What's going on?" shocked, and maybe even a little frightened.

She could say she blamed him; it was all so fantastic.

"That's it! That's the plane!" she told him, feeling a shameful burst of triumph as the report cut to a spokesperson for Oceanic Airlines. "_Now_ do you believe me?!"

The aggravated look he'd worn since waking up faltered, giving way to one of utter bewilderment, and she was sure that he was coming around, until he responded with an obstinate shake of his head. "No, Kate, this is crazy – there's no way you could've known that was gonna happen."

"That's what I've been trying to tell you – _I did_, because it's happened before," she insisted, unwilling to give up when she was so close to having him convinced.

He couldn't deny the truth this time, not when the proof was up there in technicolour in front of him. "That's how we were supposed to meet – you got hurt in the crash, and I stitched you back up, but I came to L.A. instead, so all that other stuff wouldn't get in the way this time. _That's_ how I knew who you were, and where to find you."

She could tell by his horrified look that she'd lost him, so she took hold of his hand, squeezing it in both of hers as she added, "Please, Jack – I'm not making this up. Why would I?"

This question stumped him enough for flicker of doubt to pass over his features, but rather than accept what she was saying, he pulled free of her, sliding out of bed to pace in front of the window. "Were they right about you?" he asked, stopping after a long moment, "Are you involved with these people – are you a terrorist?" and she let out a groan of frustration, smacking her palm against her forehead. The idea was so absurd she almost laughed.

Or she would have, if she couldn't see that he was completely serious. It was the only explanation his scientific mind could come up with for what was happening. "What? No," she assured him, struggling to her own feet. "That's ridiculous – the only person I ever blew up was Wayne, and he deserved it."

She realised her mistake when he gave her an incredulous look, massaging his face with both hands as he resumed his pacing, and she couldn't tell whether or not he believed her.

"I've been around you too long," he said finally, his expression still unreadable, and she smiled, relaxing, until he went on, "This doesn't change anything. You still tried to kill yourself, Kate – right after you started raving about not being able to save your mom. You told all those people you wanted to stop the crash – how do I know it's not gonna happen again now that you've failed?"

"Because _it won't_," she insisted, her sense of desperation returning now that he'd stripped away her last hope, "I was a different person then," but she knew that it would never be enough to ease his fears; the ones she'd instilled in him through her actions.

"That doesn't change the fact that it could – that it _did_," he reminded her, his voice cracking as he blurted out the missing piece of the puzzle, the part that she'd only suspected until now. "I asked you if you were okay – if I should stay home – and you said you were fine. That I should go save lives. But I didn't. I couldn't stop it from happening. I couldn't save my own little girl. I'm not gonna miss the signs again."

"So that's your answer?" she asked, swallowing her sympathy for him as she willed him to let them go back to the way things were before; to give her a chance to make things right. "To lock me up? Is that really what you want? For us? For our daughter?"

"I wanted a lot of things for her," he said, sounding hollow and broken, and she got the sense that he wasn't talking about the same daughter that she was. "For both of them, but you can't change the past, Kate. You can't go back in time. Sometimes all you can do is accept the way things are and move on."

She opened her mouth to tell him that this wasn't true, that the fact that they were together was proof that she could, but before she could speak, she was hit by a wave of dizziness, and she had to grip the dresser to keep from falling down.

"Kate?" Jack was by her side in seconds, gripping her arm as he pulled her back to her feet.

"What's happening?" she choked out, panicked, her chest heavy, her lungs bruised, all of a sudden.

Everything around her was fading, becoming blurred and confused; she found it difficult to form a coherent thought through the fog settling over her brain. Her whole head hurt; it felt like someone was pounding on the back of her skull with a sledgehammer, and she had to take a deep breath to keep from being sick. "It the baby okay?"

"You're both gonna be fine. I'm gonna call an ambulance," he told her, keeping one arm tight around her as he scooped the receiver up off the nightstand. "Just hold on."

She tried to focus on what he was saying; _on him_; but his voice sounded like it was coming from a thousand miles away; from somewhere on the bottom of the ocean. "I can't."

"Yes, you can," he insisted, still fumbling with the keypad as he manoeuvred her back towards the bed, but she could see the fear in his eyes when she stumbled again, collapsing heavily against him. "Stay with me, Kate."

"No, I—" she tried to tell him, but, as if to prove her point, her stomach gave another lurch, the ebb and flow of pain in her head becoming white hot and constant, and she started to black out.

As her consciousness faded, and she slid, boneless, towards the ground, she could feel his fingers digging into her biceps, shaking her lightly as he pleaded with her to come back to him.

"Kate? Kate – can you hear me?" she heard him choke out. "You need to wake up. Wake up, Kate."

And then, she did.

* * *

Next chapter: But where? And when...? ;) 

I know the timing's a bit weird, but it's all over the place on the show. The plane left at 2:55 according to the Oceanic Airlines website, but in the Pilot, it looked like the crash happened in the middle of the afternoon, so who knows? ;)

Oh, and BTW, while Kate couldn't stop the crash, she may just have saved two people: Ana Lucia and Sawyer, who both ended up on that flight by following Christian's advice... ;)


	35. Chapter 35

Thanks for the reviews. I really thought more of you were gonna figure out where she was going (If you go back and read the last paragraph you'll see the clues are all there!), but since you didn't, I'm going to put you out of your misery. Remember to review, though, because this it the end. ;)

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Chapter 35. Home 

Opening her eyes with a gasp, Kate was overcome by a fit of coughing, her chest giving a painful spasm as her lungs expelled the… water?… there.

"Kate?" she heard Jack say, his voice full of excitement, mingled with relief, and she turned her head to see him leaning over her, ashen faced and frantic, just like he had been before, but something about all this wasn't right.

They weren't in the hotel, or a hospital; they were outside, on an outcrop on the beach. He was soaking wet, his t-shirt plastered to his chest, showing off the tattoos snaking down over his bicep, and when the breeze hit her, and she shivered, she realised that she was too.

"Jack…?" she croaked out, but before she could finish asking him what had happened, he was pulling her limp body towards him, cradling her against him with such force that she was afraid he was going to hurt the baby…

…until she brought a hand up to protect it, and it hit her that there _was_ no baby, the skin of her abdomen firm and flat. Just like the night that she'd left.

It was all gone: the baby, Sydney… Jack… at least that version of him.

She was back.

"Oh thank God…" she heard him whisper into her hair, as close to praying as she'd ever seen him get, his whole body shaking, and she realised that he was crying, but this flash of raw vulnerability didn't last long.

"What the hell were you thinking, sneaking off in the middle of the night like that?" he asked her in a strange echo of the scene in the security office, switching back into doctor mode as he pulled back to check her over for injuries.

"I don't know," she confessed, wincing when his fingers found the wound on the back of her head; it seemed so long ago now, like something someone else had done.

In a way, it was.

"If I hadn't come after you, and seen you…" he shook his head, swallowing hard as he turned his face out to sea, but not in time to keep her from noticing the anguish in his expression. It was the same look he'd worn when he described what it was like to find her bleeding in the bathtub, watching her slip away right in front of him. "I didn't think you were ever gonna breathe. It was like you just… gave up."

He sounded so wounded, like he thought she'd done it to punish him for not paying enough attention to her earlier, to escape him… "_I didn't_," she told him, reaching for his arm, hissing and gripping the back of her head when the sudden movement sent a sharp stab of pain through her skull. "I was fighting – I was fighting for you. For us."

"You weren't fighting for anything," he said, still sounding bitter and hurt, but something inside of him seemed to shift as he registered her use of the word "us", his eyes wide and questioning when he brought them back to meet hers. "We… _I_… almost lost you."

"I'm so sorry, Jack," she said, still clutching his arm, only this time it wasn't because she wanted him to forgive her, because she knew that he already had: all of the mistakes that she'd made in the past, and all of the ones she was going to make in the future. He'd never given up on her; _on them_; he just couldn't understand why she had. She didn't need to take it back, any of it; she just needed to make it right.

"I'm sorry I hurt you, because I… because I love you," she blurted out, amazed at how easy it was; how good it felt; now that she knew that he didn't hate her, that he couldn't, and he stared at her, shocked.

"I should get you back to camp," he said, standing up and pulling her to her feet, stubbornly refusing to believe what she was trying to tell him. "I need to take a better look at that wound – if it's as deep as I think it is, you're probably gonna need a couple of stitches."

"That wasn't the concussion talking, Jack," she told him, ignoring this, and tightening her grip on his arm as if she thought that would keep him from withdrawing from her. She wasn't going to let another chance slip through her fingers, not while there was still hope. She may have failed time and time again to change the past, but the future was still something she could do something about. "I love you."

He couldn't ignore it a second time, not when she could see how much he wanted it to be true. "But what about… what about Sawyer?" he asked, closing his eyes, and massaging the bridge of his nose as if bracing himself for her answer, and another disappointment, but she pulled his hand away, forcing him to look at her.

"I don't know, but it's not happening again. I'm not in love with him – not like this," she confessed, reaching up to kiss him, just like she had on the pier, pouring everything that she felt, all of the love, and the pain, and the fear, and the loss, into that one action, so that neither of them could deny the truth of it anymore.

He didn't move at first, neither resisting, nor reacting to, what she was doing, but slowly, the walls he'd built around his heart to keep her out began to crumble, and he tightened his arms around her, returning the kiss in kind.

"I love you too," he murmured against her lips as they pulled back, his forehead bent against hers, and even though they'd shared a moment like it before; several in fact; she couldn't remember feeling this complete then, like she was finally home.

"So what does this mean?" she asked him as they stood, still holding onto each other, and his expression turned serious, the contented smile dying from his lips.

"I guess that depends on you – whether or not you can promise me you're done running."

"We both are," she agreed, bringing her lips back to his to seal this with a softer, sweeter kiss this time, before he was all business again.

"Come on," he said, keeping his arm around her waist to support her as he started to move again, but he was smiling this time, letting her rest her head against him.

As they made their way back to camp, and the first tents came into view, she was relieved to be back on the island, where she belonged, but one thing still bothered her.

Before, it had been _Desmond_, not Jack, who had saved her, breathing his power into her along with his breath. That wasn't one of the things that she'd changed, in this, or any other timeline; she'd woken after it happened; so why was it different when everything else was the same? Had Desmond gone back and convinced him to follow her, or was it something else?

Jack had said that it took her a while to come back: had she died, only to be resuscitated a few minutes later? Was she in heaven? Hell? Purgatory? Or had all been just one long, crazy dream?

"Jack," she said as he helped her into her tent, sitting her down on the bed. "Can I ask you something?" She thought that he could at least help her clear up the last one.

"Sure," he agreed, lighting a torch so that he could take another look at her head.

"What's your father's name?" she asked, watching him dig the torch into the sand, and find a cloth to start cleaning her up. "You never told me."

"Why're you asking me this, now, Kate?" he asked her, bristling at the question. "We can talk about it in the morning, when you've had time to recover."

She was too impatient to argue, so she said, "It's Christian, right? Christian Shephard. He was a chief of surgery at your hospital," hoping that he would laugh and tell her that it was really Paul or Andrew, and that he was a lawyer or G.P or something, _anything_, else. Then she could just forget the whole thing and move on.

But that wasn't how it happened. He paused in his actions, the cloth suspended halfway to her scalp as he fixed her with a strange look. "Who told you that, Kate?"

"I don't know – I guess you did," she agreed, her confused expression mirroring his as he went back to work, dabbing the blood from her hair, and she realised that in a way, he had.

* * *

So that's it. I'm gonna leave it up to you guys to decide whether or not it really happened. ;)

For anyone who's wondering about the other timeline, Tahti's suggestion was frighteningly accurate. :) Technically, Kate only fainted (the headache, sore chest and difficulty breathing were the result of her accident) so she and the baby would have been fine. Her relationship with Jack wouldn't: either they would have stayed together, and continued drifting apart, or eventually (burdened by the collective guilt of her mother, the first baby, and the crash), Kate would have tried again and succeeded, leaving Jack to raise their child alone... But at least things worked out in this one! ;)

I'm hoping to have another fic up soon (knowing me, it could be in a couple of hours!) in addition to finishing the Kevin two shot and a one shot I was asked to write about Kate visiting a fortune teller at a fair as a teenager. I have two ideas: one based on the flashforwards, and one for another young Jate fic with a twist I've never seen done before, so let me know if you have a particular preference.

This fic has exceeded my expectations, both in the way it turned out, and the response, so thanks again. I really am addicted to your feedback! ;)


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